


By God's Grace

by skinman



Category: Pride and Prejudice (2005), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Elizabeth - centric, F/M, Family, Gen, Georgiana - Freeform, and Elizabeth's parents, and Lydia's children, and her husband, mostly focuses on Elizabeth's relationships with her children, much like the orginal novel, with appearances from Jane
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:32:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinman/pseuds/skinman
Summary: A story set near on 17 years post the events of Pride and Prejudice that entertains what it might be like should Elizabeth face quite the opposite problem to her mother....‘Do you feel ill? Should I fetch Papa?’‘No, it’s alright. I was just thinking on something quite sad. It’s nothing, for we all are sad sometimes, aren’t we?’ Elizabeth would not burden any of her children with the truth, but did not wish to lie either.‘Yes.’ James responded simply.‘Would you take a walk with your Mama? I turned down you father’s company, and now find myself in need of some.’





	1. Expectations

Mrs Elizabeth Darcy was thankful she had been reminded to bring along a book to read for the journey. In bad weather the roads from Mayfair to Harrow could take near on six hours altogether to conquer. Luckily, the weather had stayed fine and it did not seem that it would take more than three hours to get both to Harrow and back again. Still, to Elizabeth it seemed an age.

  
Her husband was occupied with reading through a stack of reports he had received early this morning, and was not open to conversation.

Finding her concentration lacking she could no longer focus on her novel and took to regarding the outside world through the window of the carriage. They could not be too far from Harrow now, it seemed as though they had spent all morning travelling, though Elizabeth knew it could not be past 10 o’clock. They had endeavoured to return home by lunch and as long as the weather continued to be amiable this should be no trial.

  
‘Fitzwilliam, what time is it now?’ Elizabeth asked, for the third time that morning.

  
‘My love, you would do better to distract yourself.’ Her husband did not look up from his papers, ‘It is not past 10 o’clock I am sure, but I am also sure that you know this, and do not in fact wish to know the time but if we are closing in on our destination.’ As he came to the end of his sentence, Fitzwilliam Darcy looked up to face his wife with a warmth of affection.

  
‘And shall I need to distract myself much longer?’ Elizabeth inquired.

  
Mr Darcy took his gaze from her and led her own out the carriage as they passed some signage informing them of their location.

Elizabeth let forth a grin that lit up her features.

  
As they pulled up the long cobbled driveway to their destination it took all of her considerable will to keep herself in her seat. Fitzwilliam allowed her to exit the carriage first, attended to by a footman. She did not wait for her husband as she knew he would not mind, and struggled to retain propriety as she all but charged up the large stone steps before her and through the heavy wooden doors.

  
‘Mama!’ A familiar young voice greeted her, and she turned to regard it.

  
Waiting in a large armchair by an even greater and grander unlit fireplace was a boy not yet sixteen years of age, dressed still in his dark school robes. He dropped the novel he’d been reading on the chair as he ran to meet his mother.

  
Elizabeth gathered her eldest child up in her arms and placed a kiss firmly on his brow. He was beginning to surpass her in height now, and would certainly require new school robes before he returned to Harrow in July.  
She had not quite let go of her son when his father entered, drawing the boy’s attention.

  
‘Papa.’

  
Striding over, Fitzwilliam pulled their child into a firm embrace, kissing the top of his dark head where she could no longer reach. Elizabeth was sure her eldest would grow to match his father in height, as he did in most aspects.

  
It could be almost unnerving upon a first encounter to meet Bennett Obadiah Darcy stood beside his father. Their features and mannerisms quite identical. With dark hair, a strong nose and jaw, and keen blue eyes that seemed to strip you down to your soul in the barest of glances, he was very much his father's son. However, upon closer inspection one might detect his mother in his quick smile or a cutting wit that appeared to torment only close friends and family.

  
Being as he was the eldest of the Darcy children, with a somewhat significant difference in age between he and his next eldest sibling, Bennett, known affectionately as Benny by his mother and favourite aunts, spent the first five years of his life surrounded by adults. His parents were loving and his nurses kind, but with no siblings he was not provided with the type of play that prolongs a childhood. Even when his cousins visited he was expected to act both as playmate and chaperone to the younger children. Stoic yet very kind in nature, much like his father, with a keen eye for any mischief, Bennett was a worthy heir. Elizabeth had dearly worried what effect his attendance at Harrow might have on her other children as he was not there to guide them. Elizabeth was sure she might have been quite different if her sister Jane had been sent away to school at thirteen.

  
‘Come, it would be good to make haste if we are to refresh ourselves and change before lunch.’ Mr Darcy ushered his wife and child back toward the carriage that awaited them. ‘Your Aunt Georgiana, Uncle, and cousins are joining us and it would be a shame to meet with them still feeling dishevelled from our journey.’

  
‘And your brothers. Though I do believe both Oliver and Tobias have missed you terribly and would not care in the least if you were to arrive to meet them caked entirely in road dust.’ Elizabeth said, thinking upon how glum her two youngest had been when Bennett had been sent back to school after Christmas.

  
‘Not James or Edmund?’ Bennett asked after the two brothers that belated him in age.

  
‘Edmund enjoys ruling the playroom too much to miss the presence of an elder brother who might steal that pleasure from him, and James is too easily distracted to miss anything or anyone for long.’ Darcy sighed, contemplating the wildly differing natures of his children.

  
‘Mr Darcy.’ Elizabeth shook her head, but the light in her eyes danced mirthfully. ‘To be so severe on your own sons?’

  
‘You know well, my love, that it is not severity so much as acknowledgment of fact. Many boys of ten years are prone to self importance, and many boys of eight are prone to hyperactivity, Edmund and James are but two such boys.’ His level headed response only increased Elizabeth’s mirth.

  
‘Hear your father, Benny. Your task is to take Edmund down a peg or two while you are home, and impress upon James how important the application of focus is.’

  
‘I'll do my best, but to succeed I think I would need more than three months to complete the task. Three years migh do.' Bennett let forth a smile to match his mothers and laughed with her a moment, to his father’s amusement.

  
Darcy was sure he would not get as much reading done on this leg of the journey as he had the previous.

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth was pleased to return home to an orderly house. With four young boys to contend with it was often not so. Seeing that her sister-in-law had not arrived early was also a relief. Should she have done, Georgiana and her family would have had nought but a group of rowdy nephews to host them.

  
‘Mrs Farrow?’ Elizabeth called upon the housekeeper.

  
‘Yes, Mrs Darcy?’ The sweet middle-aged woman bustled over to her mistress’ side, abandoning a maid that she had been instructing.

  
‘Can you please see that Mr Jones attends to my eldest son once Mr Darcy is dressed, and that a maid in sent up to collect his school clothes for washing? Do not worry about unpacking his chest Master Bennett is quite capable in that regard.’

  
‘Of course, Mrs Darcy.’

  
‘Thank you, Mrs Farrow.’

  
Mr Jones, Mr Darcy’s Valet, was a quiet sensible man and was never the type to fuss, and so was the surest way to have her whole family ready for the afternoon in the shortest amount of time.

  
‘Mama!’ For the second time that day Elizabeth was greeted with extreme fevor by one of her sons. However, this time it was not the eldest, but the youngest that she met with.

  
Tobias William was alike to his eldest brother and father in colouring but that was where the similarities did end. He tended toward the gracelessness of his only living grandmother and showed all emotion without hindrance. Prone to accidents, perhaps it was lucky he did not like to be apart from either one or both of his parents for too long, as he got himself into tight spots with unmatchable ease.

  
At four years he was still fairly easy to lift and Elizabeth was quick to do so. Tobie was her last baby, and so she cherished these moments even more so than similar ones with her older sons.  
It was lucky that Tobias did enjoy the attention, for it seemed he could not get enough of it. He was far too young to pass good judgement on his personality as of yet, but it seemed his small head was filled only with thoughts of what attentions his mother might lavish upon his this afternoon, and whether his father would let him ride on his shoulders when they went for an early morning walk tomorrow. Tobias, as most young children do, took pleasure in the small pleasant happenings of life.

A good humoured and healthy child he did not trouble his mother as some of her other children had and was a welcome distraction whenever he chose to attend her, which was often. Tobias, even for a young child, was very attached to his parents, and though he was a calm child did not enjoy being in his own company at all. If all else failed he should sit under or nearby his fathers desk with a toy as Fitzwilliam worked. Elizabeth worried that the transition to the schoolroom in his sixth year might be difficult for Tobias, as he would not be able to spend the mornings with his mother as he had become accustomed to.

  
She looked around to see her husband had disappeared, no doubt to place his reports safely in his office before he ascended the stairs to change. Confident Tobias’ attentions were hers she placed him on the floor and took his small hand.

  
‘How did you spend the morning, my love?’ Elizabeth doted on her smallest boy.

  
He grasped her hand with both of his and turned his face up toward her, ‘Oliver told me some very good stories, and then we played with his new marbles.’

  
‘Oh, well that was very kind of him, wasn’t it?’

  
‘Yes. Though...’ Tobias trailed off.

  
‘Though?’ Elizabeth was sure from his face that some injustice was about to come to light.

  
‘He was going to go out to play cricket with Edmund and James, but Edmund said he shouldn’t because he would only hold them back.’ Tobias explained as they ascended the stairway.

  
‘Did he now?’ Elizabeth schooled her features, keeping her expression one of neutrality.

  
‘Yes. I... I don’t think he was being mean.’

  
_‘Just thoughtless.’_ Elizabeth added silently. ‘Thank you for telling me, Tobie. Run along now and change out your play clothes.’ She watched as her smallest boy took off toward the nursery.

  
A moment later she was at the door of the playroom, sweet notes emanating from inside as someone stroked the ivories of the small pianoforte within.

  
She slowly opened the door and was met with the sight of her second youngest son. Solemnly, his fair head bent over the keys, fingers assured where his thoughts were not.

  
‘Oliver?’ Elizabeth interrupted softly.

  
He stopped playing immediately and turned to regard her. ‘You’re back.’ He smiled.

  
For being so close in age Oliver could not be more different to James. More shy and softer spoken than any of his brothers he did not often partake in their rough play. Having developed troubles with his lungs during his second year of life his mother had grown extremely attentive. He had rarely been healthy enough to play outside with his three elder brothers.

While the application of steam often helped enough for him to go for long periods without treatment, physical exertion was ill-advised. Due to this Oliver applied himself to other more indoor pursuits. He had begun to plead with his mother to read to him for hours daily until he had learnt himself, and upon hearing his aunt, the former Miss Darcy, play the pianoforte one night when he had been allowed to forgo his usual, earlier retirement, he had been entranced. While his lungs were unsatisfactory his hearing was quite perfect, and he took to this new vocation with fevor.

  
No seven year old in all the counties of England could be so accomplished on the pianoforte, his mother laughed with her sister-in-law, amused by how her son quite exactly mirrored the young girl she had first met at Pemperly over five and ten years ago both in his looks, temperament, and his talents. While the worry had been that his choosing to learn to sing too would steal his breath and cause him to panic, it had in fact proven most constructive in improving his chest. His mother had promised that when he was sent away to school he should be allowed to join the choir if he so wished.

  
The only Darcy child to be born blond, Oliver's hair darkened but still remained fair as he grew older. He had grey blue eyes as though a storm brewed behind them. It was perhaps quite fitting that Oliver should take after his father's sister in looks, as he later did in other ways. Elizabeth had been known to joke that her sister-in-law and she had muddled their babes, as Lady Georgiana Harris' first son, William, was a dark haired boy and born not a month after Oliver.

  
Elizabeth, while she loved all her children, had taken a special interest in Oliver due to his illness, and this in turn had bred a deeper understanding of the boy she did not share in equal measure with all her children.

  
Sitting beside Oliver on the double stool she stroked a hand over the back of his head. ‘A little bird told me one brother might have said something quite thoughtless to another brother this morning.’

  
‘It’s nothing. I don’t really like cricket.’

  
‘Hm.’ Elizabeth kept her eyes trained on him, trying to ascertain whether he truly did not mind, or whether he did just not wish to cause a scene.

  
‘Edmund is much too bossy to play with anyway.’ Oliver grinned to himself.

  
Assured that Oliver had not taken his elder brother’s comment to heart, Elizabeth realised the time. ‘We’re both cutting it rather fine if we are to be ready for lunch, best go find Annie and have her choose you a smart outfit to meet Bennett, your Aunt, Uncle, and cousins in.’

  
‘Yes, Mama.’ Following her silent request, as she tapped her own cheek to indicate, he planted a small kiss on her before excusing himself.

It took no time at all for Elizabeth to dress. She had already picked out a gown before her departure to Harrow that morning which meant no time was wasted on indecision. It was quite fair to say the fashion of the decade seemed to favour the younger woman who had not yet given birth. Gone, with a great sadness in her opinion, were to loose gowns of her own youth. She had not needed the aid of a corset back then, for she had always been quite lithe as a young woman. All her days spent walking making her lean of figure. Indeed being so young and active had given her the advantage in regaining it after the births of her children. However, Tobias was born after her thirtieth year and with the added preoccupation of Oliver’s ill health outdoor excursions had not been of great frequency.  
She did not mind though, for she took the little roundness of her middle as a trophy to show for her five lively boys, for she had been more fotunate than most, despite- She gasped as her maid pulled tight at the strings of her corset.

  
‘Sorry, Mrs Darcy.’ Ruth grimaced, as she continued her work.

  
‘It’s quite alright.’ Elizabeth said. ‘I was just taken by surprise, daydreaming as I was.’

  
With that Ruth placed the gown over Elizabeth’s head and began to fasten her in.  
When the work was done and Ruth departed Elizabeth regarded herself in the large mirror hung above her dressing table. She looked quite well, perhaps this style did suit her, after all, what good were loose gowns now, she was hardly a girl anymore. It would not do for Mrs Darcy to be seen climbing trees as young Miss Bennett had been known to do.

  
A knock on the door roused her from her reverie. Sure that it would be her husband, offering his arm to escort her down to the parlour to wait for their guests, she opened the door.

  
‘Might I escort you down, Mama?’ It was her sweet little Tobie, with his hand outstretched.

  
She smiled wide at this sight. He had recently taken to copying his parents in a whole manner of ways, and this was such a one.

  
Footsteps then echoed down the landing. ‘I see I have a competitor for my wife’s affections!’ Mr Darcy made his appearance in that moment, his eyes upon his smallest son. Reaching for Tobias he swept the boy up into his arms. Inciting a squeal of delight. ‘Oh dear, what shall I do?’

  
‘Perhaps both young men might escort me down?’ Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her husband.

  
‘A very agreeable solution, don’t you think Tobias?’ Darcy said.

  
After a nod and some sounds of agreement, Tobias was once again placed on the floor.

Taking her husband’s arm on her right and Tobias’ hand on her left, the party descended the stairs.

  
They were not waiting long before the arrival of their guests was announced. And so entered the Lady Georgiana Harris, with baby Eleanor in arms. Following closely was her smiling husband, the Lord Henry Harris, with his hand on the shoulder of their elder child, William.

  
Georgiana had married well, by all accounts. He had been titled but not rich, and she rich but not titled. Indeed that was what any outsider might ascertain should they regard the union. In actuality, when he had caught Georgiana’s attention, and she his, Henry had been neither rich nor titled. However, that very season his elder brother, the former Viscount Harris had married an unsuitable woman in secret, and thus, when the scandal was brought to public attention, the severe late Lord Harris had disowned his eldest son, leaving his second son, Henry, the heir to his title and estate. By this point Georgiana was already quite taken with him.

  
Elizabeth suspected Georgiana did not love Lord Harris as Elizabeth loved Fitzwilliam. It was quite a different love, that had began much more softly and with less passion. After Georgiana’s encounter with Wickham’s supposed affections, it made sense that she should choose a husband who was quite the antithesis of the other man.

  
Lord Harris was not a naturally handsome gentleman, if not at all ugly either. He was not particularly tall, and his nose a little crooked from a childhood altercation. However, his bright and lively good humour made his face very pleasant to look upon where it might have not been so if he had been the sour sort. Elizabeth liked him very well, and thought him exactly the kind of brother she should want for her husband, and uncle she should want for her children. Unfortunately, her children were less blessed with other uncles, such as the husband of Elizabeth’s youngest sister. Luckily, when Lydia and her girls did visit the Darcy’s homes, it was always unaccompanied by the patriarch of the family, and man in question hardly deserved the title.

  
Lydia’s path through life had altered her countenance quite dramatically. Within the first year of her marriage she had begun to understand the exact sort of man she had married. Jane had regaled to Elizabeth how after the birth of her second daughter Lydia had divulged that she might have wished to be a fallen woman rather than his wife had she known what their marriage would become. Lydia’s situation had changed her from a silly girl to a practical woman. It seemed to Elizabeth that Lydia and Wickham lived apart for most of the year, and her sister was instead invested in her two daughters, raising them to ensure they would do better than she had. Though they might not marry rich or titled men, Lydia hoped they would marry gentlemen, or at the very least suitable men who respected them as their father had never respected their mother.

  
Elizabeth had on multiple occasions spoken with Mr Darcy on the subject of her two nieces, the younger also her goddaughter and therefore the responsibility for the girl’s wellbeing was hers as equally as it was her parents. Felicity and Eliza, the later named by Lydia both to spite her husband and extend a peace offering to her sister, were sweet girls who could not very well help their parentage nor name. Elizabeth had argued on their behalf, though her husband did not need convincing for he did not begrudge the girls their parentage at all. Elizabeth thought that surely the undeniable beauty and good humour of both girls could go a long way to securing them happiness, even with little dowry to speak of?

  
At least the Darcys could allow for a close connection, which could only be in the girls favour with the ton, as it seemed very unlikely they would embarrass the family as their mother had done in her youth and inexperience. Both, even Eliza at just ten years, were very sensible and practical young ladies. Lydia was much more careful with her daughters than her own parents had been with her, and with the eldest having entered society earlier this spring it was important untoward young men did not see the beautiful Felicity as easy prey. Felicity Wickham was to be chaperoned always, that was the condition of her entering society at just sixteen.   
Felicity had been staying with the Binglys through the London season, as the Wickhams did not have a London residence, only a small estate near Durham. Jane being Felicity’s doting godmother was only too happy to receive her. Jane’s daughter, though delightful, was only nine years, and Jane welcomed female company of a slightly more mature nature.  
Jane and Bingly had promised to join the Darcys and Harris’ for dinner this evening, but until then Elizabeth had much to entertain her.

  
Lord Harris greeted Elizabeth first, as Georgiana was engaged in an animated reunion with her elder brother.  
‘Mistress Elizabeth,’ He took her hands and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you for your kind invitation. William has been excited all week.’

  
‘I’m glad to hear it. Oliver, also, has talked of little else.’

  
Both looked over to regard the boys as they were reunited with one another.

  
‘I do wish for William to spend more time here if you and Georgiana can spare him, Henry? Oliver does struggle to keep up with James and Edmund, it would suit for him to have a playmate of his own age and ability. Tobias is more a ward to him than a friend.’

  
‘It would be beneficial to William, with no one to play with at home he is often quite restless. I think Georgiana would agree.’

  
‘To what should I agree?’ With that, Elizabeth was enveloped by her sister-in-law, a display of affection she was always flattered by. In the early years of her marriage, before Georgiana had met Lord Harris and left her brother’s house, they had grown quite close, like sisters, and Elizabeth treasured the connection. In the absence of Jane, Georgiana had been even more of a soothing presence, especially when life had been trying.

  
Elizabeth had felt quite lonely sometimes during the autumn months alone at Pemperly with her boys, her husband consumed by matters of business, with no female companionship except that of the servants. For a girl raised in a family of six women, it was quite a jarring reality. Elizabeth found herself a little jealous of her sister Lydia, that she should be blessed with such handsome grown daughters. So strange was it that her mother had five daughters and wished for a son, and she five sons and wished for a daughter.

  
‘We were discussing that William might wish to visit more often to see Oliver. Or perhaps, Oliver could visit you?’ Elizabeth explained as Georgiana loosened her hold.

  
‘Oh yes! Of course, we must schedule it. It would not trouble us to have Oliver for the week if you might spare him. He is such a well behaved young man, and so talented with his music, it would truly be a joy.'

  
‘A week!’ Elizabeth exclaimed. Even though it had been three years since his chest had bothered him to the point of constrictions she still worried for his health.

  
She felt her husband’s hand in hers, he held tight and then let go, as if to remind her of previous conversations they had had on the subject; that she should not let her history, her fears, govern her children’s lives. Oliver would be fine.

  
‘It would be no burden at all.’ Georgiana supplied. She assumed Elizabeth’s hesitancy stemmed from her not wishing to add to Lord and Lady Harris’ duties.

  
‘Well, if you insist I should only need Oliver’s agreement, and then you might name the date.’ Elizabeth forced an agreement and smile from her lips, though she was taken up with worries still rampant.

  
‘Shall we herd this unruly gathering to lunch?’ Darcy directed their guest back out the door, ‘I find myself quite taken with the thought as Elizabeth and I ate very early this morning.’

  
‘I have no objection at all, and William I’m sure will not as he is always hungry.’ Lord Harris laughed.

  
‘I thought a picnic in the park? It’s such a lovely day, and it allows for us to eat with even the youngest children.’ Elizabeth explained, taking Georgiana’s free elbow.

Fitzwilliam and Henry were busy guiding the group of boys through the house, a task much like trying to herd wild geese.

  
‘Perfect.’ Georgiana responded. Eleanor, it seemed was also quite taken with the suggestion, as she squealed with delight and reached over across her mother to try and grasp at her aunt.

  
‘Hello, my love.’ Elizabeth said softly to her smallest niece, placing a finger in her tiny, outstretched hand.

  
Georgiana observed Elizabeth’s action with great interest. ‘Would you mind holding Ellie a moment, Lizzy? She is too big to hold for long, but too small to walk unaided, and she does tire my arms so sometimes.’

  
‘Not at all.’ Elizabeth responded immediately.

  
Eleanor was quite happy with the change and snuggled under her aunt’s chin, a thumb placed firmly in her mouth.

Elizabeth softly stroked Eleanor’s fair hair. ‘With her colouring she does look so well in this pink.’ Elizabeth regarded the shell colour of the little girl’s dress. ‘It was always Jane’s favourite.’

  
‘I have always thought so.’

  
With that they realised the boys had all been readied to walk to the park in their outdoor wear, and it was time to place Eleanor in the pram so they might depart.

  
Elizabeth felt a little sad as she lowered Eleanor into it. Holding a baby always had a way of making one feel very needed, indispensable.

  
Darcy and Harris placed their hats firmly atop their heads and led the party out the door.  
Elizabeth took this moment to call out to her eldest son, ‘Benny.’

  
He attended to her immediately, ‘Yes, Mama.’

  
She then looked to her youngest, who was waiting behind Oliver and William to exit the house. ‘Tobie, could you take Bennett’s hand as we walk? I shall walk with your aunt.’

  
Tobias furrowed his brow. ‘I’m old enough to walk alone, Mama.'

  
‘Then do you promise you will, instead, not leave Bennett’s side until we reach the park?’

  
‘I promise.’ The boy nodded vigorously, deciding this was certainly not such an indignity as being made to hold his brother’s hand.

  
‘Very well then.’ Elizabeth sighed.

  
Bennett leant over to his mother, and in a hushed tone reassured her, ‘I won’t let him out my sights.’

  
‘Thank you, Benny.’ Elizabeth smoothed an affectionate hand over her eldest’s arm.

  
Soon they were on their way, and Georgiana sought to strike up a conversation.  
‘I do hope that William grows up to be half as good an elder brother to Eleanor as Bennett is to your younger boys.’

  
‘I find myself grateful of him often,’ Elizabeth concurred. ‘Though I do wish he was not as determined to grow up so quickly. Indeed, I do think them all growing up too quickly.’

  
‘It does seem only yesterday that Bennett was born. But, surely, there is an easy remedy to all of this.’ Georgiana’s eyes glinted in the sunlight.

  
Elizabeth turned her head up and breathed the fresh air in deeply, relishing the warmth of the sun on her face. ‘Do tell me what you mean, Georgie, for I have not the slightest clue.’

  
‘Why, Lizzy, you must have another, of course.’ Georgiana explained in a low tone.  
‘Another child? And risk a sixth son,’ Elizabeth laughed, ‘Oh, Georgiana.’

  
‘Is it so silly a thought? I know you wish for a daughter.’ Georgiana’s words cut deeper than she could know.

  
‘I had a daughter, Georgiana.’ Elizabeth reminded the younger woman softly.

  
The look on Georgiana’s face was one of great sadness, only exceeded by the look on Elizabeth’s own. ‘I know...’ She remembered that day very well too, ‘I apologise for my tactlessness. Please forgive me.’

  
‘Oh, my dear, there is nothing to forgive. I would not shun you for looking out for my happiness,’ Elizabeth reassured, before adding, ‘It is much too beautiful a day to wallow in such a great misfortune.’

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth thought on Georgiana’s words all afternoon. Excusing herself to go take a walk in the gardens when they returned to their house on Hanover Square after lunch. Fitzwilliam had offered to accompany her, but she had told him she wished for some time to think.

  
As she was born without breathing, and thus without being baptised, their daughter had not been officially named nor could she be buried on hallowed ground. By all accounts she had never existed to anybody but her parents, and so their was no mourning period, no funeral. Fitzwilliam had defyed convention just in having a small headstone crafted. She was buried quietly on Darcy land, in the most beautiful location Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam could provide, with wildflowers planted all around her. Elizabeth had yet to forgive God for what she saw as a great injustice he had done.

  
Grace was her name, at least to her parents. Quite the most delicate little thing Elizabeth had ever seen in her life. Though the day Grace had been born was quite the most horrible day of Elizabeth’s life, she tried to treasure it in part, for she did not wish to forget the features of her only daughter’s tiny face.  
She would be fourteen years this summer, had she lived, and nearly a young lady. Elizabeth flattered herself that her daughter would have grown to be a very beautiful young woman. Though Elizabeth could not be sure which parent she would have favoured, if either, she knew that Grace would have had her hair. Even though only a seven month babe, she’d been born with the wispy beginnings of a thick head of brown curls.

  
‘Mama?’ A voice questioned. ‘Are you alright?’

  
It was then she realised the state she was in, knelt on the grass in her gown, staring into nothing, with a tear trailing it’s way down her cheek. She appeared a haunted woman.

  
She looked to her left to see a pair of familiar dark eyes peering out from around one of the hedges.

  
‘Oh, James, yes, of course. I am fine.’ Hiding her grief, as she always had for the sake of her boys.

  
James did not look convinced, and so appeared completely from behind the shrubbery and came to sit with her.

  
James Richard was the son most resembling his mother; dark, playful eyes teased without words, and his brunette locks grew faster than they could be trimmed. He was of slighter frame, not inheriting his father's broad shoulders, and as such was more agile than his brothers. This to match his quickness of thought. He was always the first to reach both the top of the tree, or the punchline of a joke. If he could not be found, a servant was often sent to scour the gardens and turn him out of whatever rabbit hole or tree he was stuck in.  
This did not always work though, for with such a sweet, mischievous smile he could con almost anything out of the servants, much to his father's, if somewhat amused, despair. Elizabeth was sure he might be the most naturally intelligent of her sons, if only he could harness his wandering mind. She had expressed to her husband that with age and the right guidance this might be possible. There was a part of her, however, that chided herself for wishing to crush his spirit even the slightest amount. In James she suddenly somewhat understood the frustrating dilemma her parents had found in her as a child.

  
Silently, James placed his hand in his mother’s.

  
‘You’re such a good boy, James. Thank you for sitting with me.’

  
‘Do you feel ill? Should I fetch Papa?’

  
‘No, it’s alright. I was just thinking on something quite sad. It’s nothing, for we all are sad sometimes, aren’t we?’ Elizabeth would not burden any of her children with the truth, but did not wish to lie either.

  
‘Yes.’ James responded simply.

  
‘Would you take a walk with your Mama? I turned down you father’s company, and now find myself in need of some.’

  
The pair picked themselves up off the ground, still hand in hand, and began a turn about the gardens.

  
James did not dwell on his mother’s solemnity for long. This was a great relief for Elizabeth as she was very much in need of distraction. James’ constant questions about the sky, wildlife, and flora, provided a diversion throughout their walk.  
It but took one incident involving her second eldest son for her to forget her sadness almost completely.

  
‘Mama! James!’ Edmund’s voice called out as they turned back toward the house.

  
Elizabeth looked around, only to soon realise that James was looking upward. Following the boy’s gaze she saw Edmund crouched on top of a tree branch about three meters up.  
‘Edmund, please tell me you do not intend to jump from such a height.’ Elizabeth said, a warning clear in her tone.

  
‘I’ve done it before, haven’t I James?’ Edmund looked to his brother support.

  
James, while mischievous, was not a liar. ‘He has, Mama.’

  
‘Somehow that does not ease my displeasure in the slightest,’ Elizabeth said dryly. ‘And while, Edmund, you might have overcome the odds once, that does not mean you shall do so again, and not in your good outdoor jacket, I’m sure.’

  
Edmund’s shoulders slumped.

  
Born a second son, growing up in the company of multiple brothers, Edmund Charles was a lively boy with little care. Having been of the belief they would not be blessed with a second child his parents had lavished him with attention that had built up a sense of self importance and righteousness in the boy that his mother worried for. As a second son Mr Darcy planned that he would be gifted an inheritance of no mean size and Elizabeth worried that the easy way in which Edmund met the world would breed a naivety that could only harm him later in life.

  
The first son to inherit his mother's easy curls, his hair a chestnut red colour that Fitzwilliam contemplated to remind him of his own mother. His eyes, his father's blue, were bright and wide always, surrounded by a crowd of freckles that further distinguished him from his brothers. He could rarely be found without grass stains upon the fabric at his knees, always in some scruffy state of undress.

  
He was prone in his earlier years to figuratively tailing on and tugging at the britches of his elder brother, who he admired and oft wished to play with. At nine years of age Bennett was quite past wanting to play the sort of games that entertain a four year old but would sometimes bow to the wishes of his little brother out of affection. Edmund was lucky to now have a playmate nearer his own age in James, and the boys spent hours occupying themselves out of doors whenever the weather allowed.

  
‘Do not to defy me in this, Edmund, I only worry for your well being.’ Elizabeth softened her tone. She knew Edmund did not do these things to deliberately test her.

  
With that Edmund clambered down from the branch and dusted himself off.

  
‘Join James and I back to the house, we shall have some tea and biscuits, and then it shall be time for your supper.’ Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder, the other still held by James, and led both sons back inside.

 

* * *

 

  
Bennett was the only one of her boys old enough to dine with his parents. He only did so for family parties as he was not yet sixteen. It was however his birthday in a months time and after that date he might implore his father to let him attend dinners and balls with his parents. Elizabeth suspected this might be the case, as Bennett was only too keen to be considered a man rather than a boy.  
Since the dinner was being attended by his cousin, Miss Wickham, who was born only the autumn before himself, it did not seem fair to deny him the pleasure. It was only a family gathering after all.

  
‘I understand you are enjoying Harrow immensely, Bennett.’ Mr Bingly spoke across Darcy to the boy. ‘I should have been more inclined to enjoy my schooling, for now I feel I quite took it for granted. There is no other such great freedom in a young man’s life than when he is away at school.’

  
‘Yes, I find myself engaged from dawn till dusk most days.’ Bennett responded, always amused by the manners of his favourite uncle.

  
‘For their can be no greater pursuit than the pursuit of knowledge, do you not agree, Mistress Elizabeth?’ Bingly called upon the concurance of his sister-in-law.

  
‘My dear brother, I do believe you know me well enough by now to be sure of my agreement in this matter.’ Elizabeth smiled.

  
‘Indeed. Indeed.’ Bingly seemed pleased with her response.

  
‘I think it a great shame that young ladies are not afforded the same guild of education. For now I should be quite unimpressed if my cousin did not capture all opportunities that passed by him, for if I were given such opportunity as to study Homer’s works in the original tongue, you could nought give me the world to deter me.’ Felicity Wickham teased Bennett in her own well-spoken manner.

  
‘Well said, Miss Felicity.’ Darcy said, eyeing the look of moderated shock on his son’s face. _‘Dear, he would be quite pale should he have encountered his mother in her youth,’_ He silently mused.

  
‘Do you have a keen interest in languages, Felicity?’ Elizabeth inquired.

  
‘I do. For I am not as talented in the arts as my sister, and find myself instead drawn to the histories in my grandfather’s library. I think it should be of great interest to me if I should master the languages of their authors.’

  
‘A noble pursuit, to be sure.’ Lord Harris appraised.

  
‘I do believe, I might make the mistake of marrying a gentleman for his library rather than his conversation.’ The girl’s eyes glinted with mirth.

  
‘Why not both? As your Aunt Elizabeth did.’ Darcy joked at his wife’s expense.

  
‘Oh hush, my dear, you know this cannot be true,’ Elizabeth paused, ‘For, in many of our first encounters you were so much eaten up with shyness of character I do believe you did not manage more than two sentences in my direction, and so I cannot have married you for your conversation. This leaves, then, that I married you only for Pemperly’s library and am guilty of the very sin Felicity prays she will not fall victim to.’

  
This caused a chorus of laughter as the meat course was removed. Conversation then turned to that of the more mundane which took them through the last course.

  
‘I thought, as we are among family, we might all pass into the sitting room together for the evening.’ Mr Darcy announced as the plates were cleared away. This was met with noises of agreement.

  
Each lady took the arm of their husband as they made their way through the doors. Bennett, determined to be the perfect young gentleman, offered his arm to his cousin and followed behind the adults.

  
Georgiana was at once called upon to grace the pianoforte with her talent.

  
‘Do you play, cousin?’ Asked Bennett, after his aunt had finished.

  
‘Yes, though not as well as I might like.’

  
‘Quite my sentiment as well.’

  
‘Well, then we should play together. For then we might cover each other’s follies.’ Felicity argued.

  
Though Bennett was not sure of her logic, he conceded to try. Leaving the adults to talk he went to practice a duet with his cousin.

  
‘It is good to see Felicity with one her own age. She has the right disposition for making friends, but not keeping them, as she worries to much what people think of her.’ Jane whispered softly to her sister once the children were preoccupied.

  
‘I believe Bennett struggles, as he is not yet out in society, and has no brother near his age.’ Elizabeth confided her worries in Jane. ‘Perhaps it would be prudent to allow Bennett and Felicity to spend more time together. There are no other children in the family that can understand the complications of being their age but each other. And I should like Bennett to have some insight into the life of a young gentlewoman, as he has no sister to instruct him.’ Elizabeth swallowed her pain quickly, refusing to feel it. Grace would have been able to guide him, were she here.

  
‘Perhaps Felicity could stay with you for part of the season.’ Jane suggested.

  
‘I shall think on it.’

  
When the night came to a close and their guests departed Elizabeth found the long day beginning to weigh on her.  
Kissing her husband’s hand she informed him that she was to bed, as she had a slight headache anyway, and would see him for breakfast.

  
She made her way up the stairway a little too quickly, followed by Darcy who wished to see to some matters with Mr Jones before bed. It was only when she made it to the very top of the staircase she realised her folly. She felt a band of warmth tighten itself behind her eyes, obscuring her vision, and with a wave of sudden nausea all went dark.

 

* * *

 

Strips of sunlight had broken through the curtains, and the birds were twittering merrily, when she once again awoke. She shifted, turning her head to see that her husband was slumbering on the pillow beside her, not an unusual sight. What was strange was that he was atop the blanket, still in his shirt and britches from the night before.  
Looking to her left she also saw her maid, Ruth, asleep in a chair. How peculiar. Elizabeth raised herself up onto her elbows so she might sit.

  
Ruth startled at the movement, roused immediately. ‘Oh, Mrs Darcy. You’re awake. Thank the Lord. I will fetch Dr Egerton at once.’ The woman hurried off before Elizabeth could say another word.

  
‘Dr Egerton?’ She muttered aloud.

  
Fitzwilliam then stirred. Eyelids fluttering. Within a few moments he was fully awake.  
‘Elizabeth?’ He sat up sharply as soon he saw his wife awake. ‘You are awake, I must call for Doctor Egerton.’ Before he could rise Elizabeth stopped him.

  
‘No, Ruth has already set herself to that task, you, my love, will sit and explain to me why such a man is necessary.’ She demanded in a frustrated tone.

  
‘Do you not remember?’ Darcy looked quite worried. ‘Elizabeth last night you took ill. I dread to think... had I not been in your wake to catch you...’ He trailed off.

  
Now, she realised, she did remember. At least, she certainly did not remember dressing for bed in the slightest.

  
It was then that Doctor Egerton knocked, and then entered without waiting for consent, followed by a flustered Ruth. A gruff but kind man he did not care for pleasantries and was not afraid to order around those of higher social standing when the moment demanded.

  
‘Mr Darcy,’ He tipped his hat at the gentleman.

  
Darcy rose from the bed and straightened his apparel for propriety’s sake, before greeting the good doctor with a shake of the hand. ‘Doctor. Thank you for being so patient as to wait.’

  
‘Mr Darcy, if you would give me leave to examine your wife?’

  
‘Of course. Ruth, I shall be in the next room should anything be needed from me.’

  
‘Sir.’ The maid acknowledged his words, and curtsied.

  
‘Ruth would you please wait outside the door, make sure we are not disturbed.’ Elizabeth was sure, if there was something seriously wrong with her, then her Doctor and her Husband should be the first two souls to know of it.

  
Ruth curtsied again, and did as she was asked.

  
‘Mrs Darcy, I had hoped to see you next at some social event, rather than in this manner.’ Egerton begun.

  
From there they walked through all the normal questions and queries a doctor might ask in this situation, such as; if she had been feeling unwell of late, whether she had been struck on the head at any point in recent weeks, if she had indulged too much the previous evening. Elizabeth answered to the nought on all these accounts.  
The Doctor was perplexed for a moment, but then smiled. He began to ask her another series of questions, these slightly stranger as Elizabeth could not see what conclusion her answers might be leading him.

  
Egerton then inquired simply, ‘I do not wish to seem impertinent in asking you, my dear Mrs Darcy, when the occurrence of your last monthly was?’

  
‘Doctor, you know from previous conversation they have been few and far between since Tobias’ birth near on five years past.’ He surely could not be implying what she thought he might. ‘Though I had a few marks just last month.’

  
‘Not unheard of during a pregnancy in the slightest, especially when nearing on five months as I suspect you now to be.’

  
Five months. Five months with child. That was unaccountable. Impossible. ‘Doctor, I assure you it is not possible.’ She would be able to tell, at five months it was very easy to see. Besides, Tobias was her last babe, she had always known that to be the undeniable truth, for she felt it deeply.

  
Doctor Egerton began to pack away his instruments as he continued an explanation of his prognosis. ‘Mrs Darcy, you are a healthy married woman of child-bearing age with five living children already to speak of, I should not think it half as unlikely as you might believe. From what you yourself have told me today, there is no other conclusion I might draw but this; you and your husband should prepare for a sixth child in the late summer of this year.’


	2. Congratulations

It now seemed to Elizabeth that she had been deliberately blind. Upon an hours reflection it seemed wilful ignorance should have been one such ailment the Doctor might have noted, as for months now she had been choosing to disregard any evidence that went against her own beliefs. Now she could see how evident her condition truly was.  
Stood in her nightclothes still, she smoothed a hand over her stomach. Already a readily recognisable roundness, she was horrified in herself for neglecting her unborn child for so many months. No thought for their health in her decisions, she allowed her corset to be tightened so, to think how that might have restricted their growth.

  
Elizabeth did not hold with the common belief of the time that a woman’s changing waistline should be hidden during the course of childbearing. Truly, she thought it in poor taste to restrict a child’s growth to ensure the acceptance of society. Elizabeth remembered a painting she had once seen, tucked away in some obscure little room in the home of a gentleman, a friend of her father’s, she had visited as a child. The way the fine red silk of the lady’s gown had flowed and ruffled like a waterfall over her rounded stomach, pronouncing it to it’s fullest. The painting was easily 200 year old, marked in the fashion, if not in the subject. How had it come to pass that mothers must now reduce themselves so?

Elizabeth would not hear of it. By simply denying to care for the opinions of others, she had not tightened her corset to restrict her children, even with Bennett. Then later she had refused to take a lying in of more than a couple of months with Edmund, for she had been so bored with Bennett and Grace... and in the end it seemed it had not made the least amount of difference. In fact, if she thought on it, she believed her rebellion to be the reason she had produced so many healthy children. By the time she was carrying James she had been known to take short walks every other day, even in her ninth month.

  
It had come to pass that this so-called rebellion was not looked upon by the ton as unseemly anymore, but only as her natural state; the gossip rags did not even bother to report it anymore.  
It was when she was carrying Edmund, she had insisted on attending a ball in honour of her uncle-in-law, the Earl Tilmouth’s, 80th birthday at several months along, only days before she was to return to Pemberley for her lying in. It had caused quite a stir, but the next year she had done similar multiple times with James and the response had been far less severe. By Tobias, her attendance at Christmas celebrations in London while heavily carrying did not garner much of a reaction at all, but rather questions and well wishes for her and the child’s health. Of course there were always the few that still held an amount of disdain, but they were not worth thinking upon.

  
Elizabeth thought she must call for Ruth soon, or someone would be sent to check on her. Elizabeth decided that the only course of action was to inform her husband right away, but first she would make herself presentable.

  
It was only as Ruth placed the corset around her that Elizabeth realised what was about to happen and was forced to think quickly.

  
‘Ruth,’ she began, ‘would you be so kind as to keep my corset loose this morning. I am still feeling a little nauseous.’

  
‘Of course, Ma’am.’

  
And so the problem was neatly avoided.

  
After the news she had received Elizabeth did not think it prudent to miss breakfast completely, and so had a tray sent up to her and Mr Darcy’s sitting room. All the boys but Tobias and Bennett were in the schoolroom at this hour, so there was little chance she would be disturbed by anyone but her husband.

  
As such, Darcy entered the room just as Elizabeth was about to ring for the tray to be taken back to the kitchen.

  
‘Elizabeth, you have no idea what a relief it is to see you looking well again.’ Fitzwilliam came to sit beside her on the sofa, taking her hands in his. ‘The Doctor would not tell me much of your condition but that you were quite alright.’

  
‘The reason, my love, that he would not explain in detail as to my condition is, I’m afraid, down to me, as I insisted I should be the one to tell you.’ Elizabeth explained.

  
At this, Fitzwilliam’s face fell.

  
‘Do not look so pained, Fitz.’ His wife laughed.

  
‘How can I not? When until I am told the truth I must fear the worst.’

  
‘Oh dear, then I’m afraid I will underwhelm.’

  
‘Must you tease me so, Elizabeth? For you know at this moment I am eaten up with nerves.’ The deep furrow in his brow made him look so serious and handsome, she was reminded of many of their earlier encounters, for back then this had been the only expression he had allowed her.

  
Elizabeth sighed, ‘I am with child, Fitzwilliam.’

  
It took a moment for her words to solidify in his mind, for it was not the admission he had expected. When recovered, his features softened, frown disappearing, as his eyes widened in wonder.

  
_‘You’d think,’_ Elizabeth considered silently, _‘after so many moments like this he would be less affected each time.’_ But this was just the same way he had looked at her, not six months after their marriage, when she had told him of Bennett.

  
‘Truly?’

  
‘Doctor Egerton believes me already almost five months along, and that our child will be here by the end of the London season.’

  
Darcy was taken aback by this, ‘But, of course, you must return to Pemberley for your lying in. You cannot attend the end of the season.’

  
‘Well, perhaps, but I do not see why I should need to return to Derbyshire? It makes perfect sense for this child to be born in town instead.’

  
‘My love, all of our children have been born at home.’

  
‘Then let this be the exception. I will not miss my son’s sixteenth birthday, nor his first season. It would be silly for me to return home alone when my dearest sister is also in London to assist me in the birth. Should you have as you wish Bennett would not meet this sibling until the autumn when they will already be four months old.’

  
His wife, as always, argued her side with great conviction. In fact, it did make more sense for her to remain in London, and he tried not to let his wounded pride get the better of him. ‘Of course. You are right. Even if I do believe London an unsuitable place for a child to be born.’

  
‘Many more children are born here than in Derbyshire.’ She offered, smiling once again.

  
‘Let me rephrase. I do believe London an unsuitable place for a Darcy to be born.’

  
‘Now, for that ideal I have more sympathy, even though it is not enough to change my mind.’

 

* * *

  
It was decided that they should tell the children today, as it could not be kept a secret for long. By next week she was sure the servants would know, and by the week after it would be for public consumption.

Sometimes she did curse her husband’s notability as it made discretion in familial matters impossible. Her first season as his wife had been, for want of a better word, quite painful. And being thought ill of was almost preferable to the congratulations of mere acquaintances on her child-bearing ability. It did grate on her, even if it was to be expected, after all, five sons was quite an achievement she supposed. Especially when King George himself hadn’t even managed one, and her own sisters could boast only one son between all four of them as of yet. To her it did not seem any more of an achievement than her mother’s at producing five girls. They might not be considered as important as male children, but the process of bringing girls into the world was equally as difficult.

  
The children took the revelation well, not at all surprised by the news to the extent their parents had been. Though, Elizabeth supposed, for all but Tobias this had happened at least once before. In fact, she was sure Bennett had known the truth as soon as his parents had informed the children that they had something to share with them.

  
It was quite amusing really, for Tobias asked the exact same question James had asked just before Tobias was born, ‘Will it be a brother or a sister?’

  
‘I’m afraid we will not know until we meet them, my love.’ His mother gently explained.

  
‘I think I should like a sister,’ Bennett said, ‘I’m quite bored of having brothers.’

  
This earnt a burst of laugh from his father. ‘I’m sure your mother will do her best, but that, I’m afraid, is in God’s hands.’

 

* * *

  
Mr Darcy sent a letter that very next day to many of the morning papers, informing them of the announcement so the family might control when the news was released. As such it would be entered into the Saturday morning papers that very week. Both Darcy and Elizabeth thought it best to make sure interest would dull before Bennett’s sixteenth birthday as they would not wish to overshadow him at his first engagement. It was unusual to announce such a thing, while announcing a birth was quite common, however, in this area certainly, the Darcys were fair unusual already.

  
With the assurance that the announcement would be public by Sunday, Elizabeth wrote express to her family, all but Jane who she would, of course, tell in person, as soon as possible.

  
Darcy had already planned a large family dinner for the coming Friday, which allowed for the perfect opportunity to share their happy news. Though he had been pressured to invite his aunt the Lady Catherine De Burgh, for he could not invite his young cousin without offering the invitation to her grandmother as well, and he was sure the old woman would be sour all evening. It was of no concern, for even she could not ruin his happiness in this.

  
Elizabeth was so taken up with her new vocation the rest of the week passed in little less than a blur. On Thursday afternoon she received Jane for tea, desperate as she was that her dearest sister should know before the rest of the family, especially as tomorrow’s dinner would be only Darcy relatives. Jane was so happy for Elizabeth, especially as she could see that Elizabeth was particularly pleased by this occurrence, that she was almost reduced to tears of joy.

  
‘I do pray for a daughter, Jane. I know it may not be thought seemly to do so, but I do.’ Elizabeth would not admit this to anyone other than Jane or her husband.

  
‘I will pray for her good health every day.’ Jane had said, blue eyes brimming.

  
‘Oh,’ Elizabeth had been overcome, and so pulled her sister into an embrace.

 

* * *

  
‘I shall need my gowns altered, I suppose.’ Elizabeth thought aloud as Ruth attended to her hair.

  
‘And new ones made, I insist upon it. I shall make an appointment for the end of next week so you might have one by Bennett’s birthday. I’m sure Georgiana or Jane will be only too happy to accompany you, and perhaps young Miss Felicity too. As she is your niece and this her first season I thought we might gift her one or two fine gowns. It would be no trouble, as young gentlemen such as Bennett are not as expensive to dress and I do not have any grown daughters of my own to buy such things for... at least not yet.’ He gifted his wife a bright, reassuring smile.

He had been sat nearby for near on half an hour now as Elizabeth readied herself for dinner, content to make conversation, or just to listen as she talked.

  
‘What a wonderful suggestion. I shall send a note to Jane tomorrow.’ Elizabeth returned his smile. How was it that he knew so well exactly what to say? How amusing, for when they had first met it had been quite the opposite.

  
Elizabeth decided that she quite liked the new fashion of shoulder-less style evening gowns. Blessed as she was with a long, slender neck and a fair, unmarked set of shoulders, lucky to have avoided the unsightly pox marks that some young ladies were plagued by. While she did not have the desirable, pale, unaffected skin of her elder sister, a few freckles and small moles here and there were nothing. Mr Darcy had in fact been know to declare a great love for them.

  
‘Do you think the blue or the lilac ribbon, Ruth?’ Elizabeth asked, examining both.

  
‘Surely the blue, Ma’am.’ Ruth said with complete conviction.

  
‘Of course, you are right.’ Elizabeth smiled into the mirror as Ruth fastened the blue ribbon into her hair, ‘I do wish I had your eye for these things, it would deciding upon drapery so much easier.’

  
‘Thank you, Ma’am.’ Ruth blushed.

  
Elizabeth admired her hair. ‘Thank you, Ruth. You are excused.’

  
When the maid was gone, Fitzwilliam moved to stand behind his wife. Leaning over her he pressed his lips to her bare shoulder.

  
‘Mr Darcy, how forward!’ Elizabeth teased.

  
‘I believe, Mrs Darcy, as we are about to gain a sixth child the whole world cannot be blind to understand quite how forward I can be with you.’ He said, causing her to blush, which was not at all a common occurrence, at least it had not been since their marriage had been new.

  
It was true, Elizabeth supposed, for they were not nearly as discreet as most couples of their rank. She remembered the scandal that had ran through the gossip rags the weekend Mr Darcy had, early in their marriage, made the mistake of kissing her upon the lips in broad daylight in St James Park. Lord, should could not leave their home for weeks without attracting lingering gazes. Indeed, if Lord Gosling’s youngest son hadn’t run off with the scullery maid it might have taken a fair while longer than a couple of weeks to calm down too.

  
It was not often Mr Darcy could find the words to quiet his wife in such a way, and he took a great deal of pleasure in it. The colour in her cheeks was very pleasing. He took her hand and placed another kiss upon her fingertips before implying that they should descend now to receive their guests.

  
Colonel Fitzwilliam and his sweet-natured wife, Diana, were the first to arrive, bringing good cheer as they always did. Though Darcy and Fitzwilliam were not as close as they had once been as young men, they enjoyed each others company very well. Next were Lord Henry and Georgiana, much to Bennett’s delight to see Darcy relatives he was well acquainted with.

  
Soon they were joined by the elderly Earl of Tilmouth, the Fitzwilliam patriarch. The father of three sons; a viscount, a bishop, and a lieutenant. Tonight he was accompanied by his heir, Viscount Loughly, the Colonel and Darcy's eldest cousin. On his arm was his wife, Lady Ann, and their eldest son, Mr Henry Fitzwilliam. The boy was known only as Harry, and was newly nineteen, attending Oxford at his grandfather’s expense. 

  
Elizabeth could feel Bennett’s nerves as he stood beside his mother to greet them, and she did not blame him. The Fitzwilliams made for a fair imposing gathering, not like her own family of country gentlefolk, to whom Bennett was more accustomed.  
However, most of them were much less intimidating than one might ascertain upon a first acquaintance. The Earl, due to his advanced age, was not intimidating at all once introduced as he could be very forward in his commentary and had a habit of falling asleep during conversation. As for his grandson, Mr Harry, he was a very pleasant and well-educated type of fellow, with a handsome face to match, and did not act half so self-important as his father the Viscount.

  
The worst was yet to come of course, Elizabeth reminded herself. For the De Bourghs were yet to arrive. It felt that as soon as she had noted this, a footman entered to announce their arrival. And so the Lady Catherine swept in, bringing a gust of cold wind with her, for Elizabeth was sure she felt it. Followed as she was by her son-in-law, the rich tradesman’s son her daughter Anne had ‘stooped’ to marry, Mr Ester, and her granddaughter, the motherless young Miss De Burgh. Who, Elizabeth was convinced, was having the life sucked out of her by her grandmother just as had been the fate of her mother. Truly, Elizabeth felt little else but pity for the girl, who was not yet fifteen, and trapped at Rosings with nought but her uninterested father and emotionally draining grandmother for company.

  
‘Aunt,’ Darcy greeted curtly, polite as he could muster as he kissed Lady Catherine’s hand with pursed lips. ‘And my dear cousin Miss Marian.’ Here he met the girl with considerably more warmth than her grandmother.

  
When all reintroductions were complete, with Lady Catherine turning her nose up at Elizabeth and Bennett’s presence especially, they sat down to wait for dinner to be announced.

  
Elizabeth was equipped with enough self-assurance to not care in the least that Lady Catherine disliked her. However, she was not quite as tolerant when it came to the treatment of her children. Now she promised herself she would truly revel in Lady Catherine’s sour mood when she was told of their joy.

  
Darcy caught her eye soon after, signalling to warn her that he was about to make the revelation to his relatives.

  
Elizabeth offered him a small nod.

  
‘My dear family, if I might make an announcement,’ Mr Darcy began.  
This was, as expected, met with a few noises of encouragement.

  
Coming to stand behind his wife where she was sat next to their son, he placed his hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. ‘Just this past week Elizabeth and I have met with the happy news that we are to expect a new Darcy before the end of the London Season.’ Mr Darcy’s face was lit with hopeful possibility as he shared this knowledge. Others knowing of it only made the reality of it seem so much more tangible.

  
‘Oh cousin, that is truly wonderful news!’ the young Miss Marian exclaimed immediately. This earning a series of smiles from the Darcys, and a sharp look from her grandmother.

  
After this they were met with many congratulatory remarks, some more sincere than others. Georgiana rushed over to embrace her brother, and plant a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek.

  
‘I could not be more happy for you, though I must admit I am also rather confused.’ Georgiana could not reconcile this news with Elizabeth’s insistence early in the week that she would bear no more children.

  
‘This last week has been confusing for me too, I promise to explain fully when you visit us tomorrow.’ Elizabeth whispered back.

  
‘I do hope you intend to slow down at some point, Darcy.’ The Earl chuckled away, gesturing at the other man with his cane. ‘They’ll be no sons left for anyone else.’

  
‘Father,’ Viscount Loughly began, but was interrupted before he could continue.

  
‘Goes to show, does it not Harry,’ Lord Fitzwilliam slapped his grandson on the back, ‘you’re better off with a strong country gentlewoman than some silly city-bred Miss who’s never seen the sun in her life if hardy sons are what you’re after.’

  
‘Father!’ The Viscount spluttered.

  
‘Brother, do be quiet, you are making fools of us all!’ Lady Catherine’s bite was sharp, face thunderous.

  
‘Trust me, Catherine, you do not need my help to that end. You make a fool of yourself very well without my assistance.’ The Earl regarded his younger sister with severity.

  
Lady Catherine was stunned, her mouth opened as if she were to say something, but words escaped her.

  
Harry was obviously very amused by his grandfather’s antics, and seemed to be biting back his laughter. The Earl had managed to either insult or embarrass his entire family quite terribly in less than two sentences.

  
There was a knock on the door, and one of the footmen entered.  
‘Dinner is served, Mr Darcy.’

  
‘Thank you, Mr Dunn.’ Darcy, thankful for the interruption, went to accompany his wife.  
Bennett, left to enter the dining room alone behind everyone else, found himself feeling rather awkward. Fortunately, he was not allowed to feel so for long.

  
Harry came to stand next to him, still struggling against his mirth. ‘Thank God for that. What excellent timing your family’s staff have, cousin.’ The older boy whispered. ‘I do believe had your Mr Dunn not made himself known, Aunt Catherine might have grabbed one of your mother’s fine cushions and done for Grandpa herself.’

  
Bennett covered a snort of laughter with a series of short coughs. This earning a couple of cursory slaps on the back from Harry.

  
Bennett managed to charm his Fitzwilliam relatives with ease, as he was everything they might expect and nothing less. Thankfully he had been seated between Harry and the Colonel, and was not at any risk of being penalised by either gentleman. When necessary the Darcys, the Harris’, and, for which Elizabeth was most grateful, Mr Harry, led the conversation as such that Lady Catherine could not find a fault in Bennett to exploit no matter how hard she tried, and try she did.

  
The rest of the evening passed without incident or injury, as Lady Catherine was kept distracted, and the Earl and his loose tongue were first occupied with their dinner and then with their port.

  
It was a huge relief to Elizabeth when the last of their guests made their excuses and left.

  
‘Well... I believe that could have gone far worse.’ Darcy surmised.

  
‘Yes, thank God for Lord Henry, Georgiana, and the Colonel,’ Elizabeth said.

  
‘And cousin Harry.’ Bennett interjected.

  
‘Yes, and Harry. What a lovely young gentleman.’ Elizabeth agreed. ‘Though I cannot for the life of me figure out where he inherited his good manners.’

  
Mr Darcy laughed at this. ‘To be quite frank, my love, I have still yet to figure out where you inherited yours.’

  
‘Just goes to show, one cannot judge an individual based upon their parentage.’ Elizabeth took her son’s hand and addressed him, ‘Not to be direct, but just look at your cousin Felicity, Bennett, had you known her parents in their youth you could not have thought it possible that they might produce such a well-mannered young lady.’

  
‘Mama.’ Bennett frowned, almost scornfully.

  
‘Oh, do not look at me as though I have said something scandalous.’ Elizabeth said, unaffected. ‘If you knew all the details you would agree her difference in manner from that of her parents to be to her credit. Though my sister is, in particular, much changed since her marriage, and I will not condemn her for actions so long past.’

  
‘I imagine being married to a man as odious as Mr Wickham to be quite condemnation enough.’ Mr Darcy said, with a certain kind of solemnness. He leant back in his chair, serious of face. Truly, Darcy did detest the man; if he hadn’t thought incredibly poor of Wickham after the crimes he had committed against Georgiana and himself, Darcy still should have damned him to hell just for trapping Lydia, still much a child, in a desperate, loveless marriage.

  
Bennett was quite taken aback, not sure his parents to ever have spoken so candidly in his presence before. Certainly not about this matter. Though Bennett had inferred over the years that his parents very much disliked his Uncle, now he could see how deep their distaste ran.

  
‘I’m glad you liked your cousin Harry, Bennett. He would be a good friend to have, to tell you what to expect of society, of university.’ Mr Darcy tactfully changed the course of the conversation, not wishing to dwell on the subject of Mr Wickham’s personal failings as they were something Darcy had already wasted far too much of his life contemplating.

  
‘Yes, I liked him very much. Though, our experiences may differ somewhat, shall they not? As he is to inherit a title, and I am not.’ For all this talk of him entering London society this year, his parents had not yet spoken with him about what to expect.

  
‘Perhaps.’ Mr Darcy paused a moment. Rising from his armchair he went to stand to look out the window, regarding the dark, drizzly London night. ‘But you are still a gentleman...’ He trailed off, before continuing, turning back to face his son, ‘and if I might be direct, Bennett... you are to inherit twice the fortune of he, even with what has been put aside for your brothers deducted.’

  
‘You do understand the responsibility that comes with this, don’t you Bennett?’ Elizabeth said softly, taking her eldest child’s hand in her own warm grasp.

  
‘I think...’ The boy frowned. ‘I hope I do.’

  
‘Bennett.’ Mr Darcy came and knelt before his son, a firmness in his gentle voice. ‘I think we have put off this conversation perhaps too long.’

  
‘You have been such a good elder brother, Bennett.’ Elizabeth could not help herself in brushing a hand against his dark hair, no matter that he was almost a man now, he was still her son. ‘I always flattered myself that I should raise the gentlest and fairest of sons, for I found so few gentlemen met that description when I was young, and I should like to allow other young ladies the pleasure of knowing more. You have never disappointed me.’

  
‘We hope,’ Fitzwilliam said, meaning to continue his wife’s sentiment, ‘that you should grow to afford this kindness not only to family... and friends, but to all who deserve it, no matter their rank. This is what makes a good man, and master, and I believe you will make a good Master of Pemberley.’

  
‘Papa, you speak as if this day were soon.’ Bennett’s eyes were filled with uncertainty.

  
‘Oh, I do hope not. For I should wish to see all my children grown, to meet grandchildren, but a gentleman is always prepared. I need to know you are ready for the burden of caring for your brothers, and your Mama.’ Darcy said with complete acceptance of fact.

  
Bennett looked stunned, if not a little scared.

  
‘My love, perhaps this is not the right time.’ Elizabeth was worried by how pale Bennett looked. Truthfully, talk of Mr Darcy’s demise had quite unsettled her too.

  
‘I’m fine, Mama. Truly.’ Bennett reassured her.

  
‘I want to impress upon you, Bennett, that with wealth and social standing comes a great deal of responsibility, as well as... also... um...’ Darcy struggled to locate the right phrase. ‘How do I put this delicately?’

  
Elizabeth knew exactly what her husband was trying to say. ‘A great deal of interest from members of the fairer sex?’

  
‘Quite.’ Darcy acknowledged.

  
‘But surely not straight away, I’ll be only sixteen years! These girls must know I am to attend university and will not think on marriage till I am at least twenty?’ Bennett rationalised.

  
‘So you would think,’ Elizabeth sighed, ‘and to a certain extent I believe that to be true.’

  
‘Yet, I was much set upon my first season, though I was eighteen that year I suppose, and already Master of Pemberley.’ Darcy said.

  
‘We shall be by your side to help you navigate the ton, my love. We promise we will not abandon you to the clutches of opportunistic mothers.’ Elizabeth laughed, hoping to lighten the mood in the room.

  
Bennett did crack a smile, but then it faltered. ‘What if I do not like them, Mama?’

  
His parents shared a look of confusion.

  
‘Whom, Benny?’ Elizabeth inquired.

  
‘The girls I meet. What if I am not taken with any of them... ever?’ Bennett stared at his hands, twisting them together anxiously.

  
‘Oh my dear boy,’ Mr Darcy shook his head slowly, ‘you do not need to worry about that. I was twice your age when I married your mother.’

  
This seemed to relieve Bennett a little.

  
‘Bennett, happiness comes in all kinds of forms,’ Elizabeth whispered, ‘never believe that you will not find it, for then it certainly will struggle to find you.’

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth struggled to rest that night, turning on her side she studied her husband’s features. ‘Fitz?’

  
He responded with a soft noise, his eyes opening to hear what she had to say.

  
‘I did not like to hear you talk so to Bennett.’ Elizabeth said simply.

  
‘What do you mean?’ Fitzwilliam, still groggy with sleep. His face was shrouded in darkness so as she could not make out his expression.

  
‘To talk as though it were some foregone conclusion that you should be gone before I.’

  
There was a long pause. ‘I am older than you, Elizabeth.’

  
‘That is not what caused you to speak in such a manner, Fitzwilliam, and you and I, both, are aware of that.’ Elizabeth’s brow now furrowed in frustration.

  
When Darcy spoke again, after a long while, his voice was heavy, ‘I... will not entertain a world... where I am no longer by your side.’

  
‘Fitz-’

  
‘No,’ he cut her off, ‘I would demand to be the first.’

  
‘My love,’ Elizabeth said now very quietly, and with great reverence, ‘do you think it would be any easier for me?’

  
Darcy turned to her, and she could see the whites of his eyes glisten, reflecting the little amount of moonlight that filtered through the gaps in the curtains.

  
‘And we must be practical.’ Elizabeth pursed her lips. ‘I am with child, and if I should perish in-’

  
‘Elizabeth,’ Darcy interrupted, eyes wide with horror. ‘Heaven forbid, do not speak of such things.’

  
‘But I must!’ She insisted. ‘For now I worry that if I should you might waste away and leave our children orphans. I need your solemn promise, Fitzwilliam, that should I be taken, Lord forbid, you will not wallow in your grief.’

  
‘You would ask me to forget you.’ Darcy said bitterly.

  
‘No.’ Elizabeth reached out to stroke his cheek. ‘No. Not forget me. I would ask you to live for me.’

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth quite forgot the news was now public the whole of Saturday, visited only by Georgiana to whom she explained in depth the strange timeline of events she had met with. How she had been told of her condition not twenty-four hours after their conversation on the matter of a sixth Darcy offspring. Georgiana continued to muse on the happy fatefulness of it all, already caught up in ideas for names, and what updates might need to be made to the nursery.

  
‘I always thought should I have another boy I should call him Arthur. Have you thought about names for a girl?’ Georgiana asked.

  
‘Yes,’ Elizabeth smiled sweetly, ‘but I vow I will not say until I have a little girl to bestow the name upon.’

  
‘Elizabeth, I beg you, I must know.’ Georgiana pleaded.

  
‘I’m afraid, dear sister, even your sweet face cannot persuade me. I wish for it to be a surprise.’

  
It was not until the end of Mass that next day, the Sunday after the public announcement, that Elizabeth realised quite how public it had been. Surely, after so many children had been born to the Darcys, people could not be so fascinated by another one.

  
They were apprehended by Father Thomas just after the congregation had begun to depart, as many gathered in the courtyard outside the church to exchange pleasantries and gossip before moving on.

  
‘Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy, I had heard of your most joyous news and could not let you leave without offering my good wishes.’ The short, buoyant man rather bounced over to them.

  
‘Oh, thank you, Father.’ Elizabeth responded politely.

  
‘You are most blessed of women, Mrs Darcy.’

  
‘Indeed. I do believe I am.’ Elizabeth looked over to her sons. She saw Edmund and James entertaining Oliver with some wild tale, which they told with vigour, hands flailing. It seemed Bennett had picked a tired Tobias off the floor, and was carrying him as the little boy now slumbered at Bennett’s shoulder. ‘If you will excuse myself and my husband, Father, I believe our youngest boy is in need of his parents.’

  
Mr Darcy took Tobias off Bennett’s hands as they were approached by yet another well wisher.

  
‘Mr and Mrs Darcy.’ The old man smiled wide, eyes glinting brightly.

  
‘Uncle.’ Elizabeth returned his warmth whole-heartedly. ‘Aunt.’ She took the older woman behind him in her arms immediately.

  
‘We were so pleased to get your letter, Elizabeth. Are you well?’ Her Aunt Gardiner took both her nieces hands in hers and squeezed reassuringly.

  
‘Quite well, thank you.’ Elizabeth said.

  
‘We must celebrate sometime, we should have the both of you for dinner whenever you see fit.’ Mr Gardiner clasped Mr Darcy’s free hand with both of his, fond as he was of the gentleman.

  
‘We mean it, Lizzy, my love. It has been too long and we’d adore the company.’ Elizabeth’s aunt insisted.

  
‘Bennett!’ Mr Gardiner called upon the attention of his great nephew, who had been busy organising his unruly brothers.

  
‘Uncle.’ The boy broke into a grin as soon as he laid eyes upon the gentleman.

  
‘I did not recognize you. I swear you have grown a whole foot since we last saw one another.’ Mr Gardiner exclaimed.

  
After this encounter the Darcys were pulled aside by no less than several well wishers before they were able to make their escape. Thankfully they had nothing much planned for the rest of the day, and could avoid any large public events for at least a week.

 

* * *

 

It was the following Thursday that Elizabeth finally emerged from the Darcy house of Hanover Square to do more than visit the park with her children or call upon friends. After a light lunch Elizabeth kissed her sons goodbye, the ones that could be located anyway, and accompanied by Jane and Miss Wickham made her way to Tributon’s dress shop in the center of the city.

  
‘Mrs Darcy, Mrs Bingly, what a pleasure!’ Mrs Tributon greeted them warmly.

  
‘Oh, Gilly how many times must we insist you call us by our Christian names.’ Jane took the woman’s hand in hers and placed a kiss on her cheek.

  
‘As you wish, Ms Jane.’ Like most people, the seamstress could not deny Jane a thing.  
Mrs Gillian Tributon had been dressing the Darcys since before Elizabeth was one. Georgiana had greatly enjoyed shopping for Elizabeth’s first season, certainly more than Elizabeth herself, and had pulled her new sister into many different shops. Tributon’s dress shop had been one such place. It had soon become apparent to the new Mrs Darcy during the course of that first London season, that Mrs Tributon was the most talented, practical, and discreet of any dressmaker in England.

  
A tradesman’s daughter and a tradesman’s wife, she had been born and married into the world of fabrics. Raised motherless Gilly had on occasion accompanied her doting father to visit the skilled women from which he acquired his finest goods; yards upon yards of perfect silk, dainty lace, and softest velvet.

  
Gilly’s father had, at her request, insisted that whatever man might marry her would need to use a portion of her dowry to assist his daughter in procuring a seamstress’s shop on Saville Row. And so she had married the most amiable Mr Tributon, and seized her dream of a career where few other women had succeeded.

  
‘And who is this young lady? I believe I have yet to make the acquaintance.’ Ms Gilly turned to Miss Wickham, reminding the other women of the girl’s presence.

  
‘This is our niece, Miss Felicity Wickham.’ Elizabeth took the girl’s hand and guided her forward so Mrs Tributon might appraise her. ‘She is in London for her first season and Mr Darcy and I are insistent that we are to gift her two new gowns.’

  
Felicity, having not heard of this development until this very moment, was taken aback. ‘Oh, aunt Elizabeth, no. I can not accept! It is too much.’

  
‘Of course you can.’ Elizabeth deflected Felicity’s modesty. ‘It is only what you deserve. We will not be dissuaded.’

  
Elizabeth spoke with such certainty that Felicity felt she could not rebuke her aunt a second time.

  
‘I know exactly the fabric to flatter your colour, Miss Wickham. Come, we shall get your measurements while your aunts take a turn about the shop to see what fabrics they might like.’ Mrs Gilly ushered the girl through the heavy velvet curtain covering the entrance to the back of the shop.

  
‘I do not know what she could mean, for I do believe Felicity would look wonderful in any fabric, but I am no seamstress.’ Jane smiled, still looking to where Felicity and Ms Gilly had disappeared.

  
Elizabeth hummed a soft agreement. Felicity was, perhaps even to a further degree, affected by the same affliction Jane had suffered from in her youth; she was the perfect encompassment of all the English believed female beauty to be. She was slim of waist, with skin the colour of fresh cream, and long, silky honey locks that reached her waist when loose. Still a girl, Elizabeth was sure Felicity should only grow more beautiful as the years passed by.

  
‘I do believe we could dress Felicity in a beggar’s rags and still she should have young gentleman throwing themselves at her feet, then they should be the ones begging as they ask for her hand.’ Elizabeth smiled to herself, as she turned to begin the study the nearby bolts of fabric.

  
‘Lizzy,’ Jane lowered her voice, ‘if I should confide something in you, I should hope you would not tell Lydia?’

  
‘Though I do love my little sister, I have never been in the habit of telling Lydia anything of consequence.’ Elizabeth said, in way of a promise of discretion.

  
‘Two gentleman have already made offers to Felicity.’

  
‘Pardon?’ Elizabeth said, her volume rising.

  
Jane hushed her sister quickly. ‘They were both quite agreeable, and seemed kind. One, though I do not wish to divulge his name, was the second son of a Lord.’

  
‘She refused him?’ Elizabeth said, shocked.

  
‘Them both.’ Jane nodded.

  
‘To marry into a titled family, with one grandfather a gentleman’s steward, it would be a fine, rare thing.’

  
‘To think, he was so taken with her to risk enduring such ridicule? I could not believe she should turn him down, but she did.’ Jane pursed her lips, thoughtful.

  
Elizabeth wondered what Felicity could be waiting for... but when she thought it all through a while her niece’s actions made complete sense. Exposure to her parents’ unhappiness, and bearing witness of Jane and Elizabeth’s good fortune, could ensure only one desire in Felicity when it came to matrimony; she wished to marry for love. This desire Elizabeth could not begrudge her, for it had been hers once upon a time.

  
It was another twenty minutes before Felicity and Ms Gilly emerged. When they did, Elizabeth had already decided on her fabrics, and was admiring something of a slightly different nature.

  
Ms Gilly came to stand beside her. ‘My Josie’s work.’ The seamstress referred to her only child, a girl of twenty years, who was set to take over the shop when Ms Gilly could no longer work.

  
‘They are the sweetest things.’ Elizabeth sniffed, feeling quite overwhelmed.

  
Before her were two sets of booties, knitted wool with thin ribbon laced through the ankle so a bow could be tied there, so small they could only be meant for newborn children. One a pale pink for a boy, the other a soft blue for a girl.

  
‘I should put a pair of each aside for you, Mrs Elizabeth,’ Ms Gilly said softly and assuredly, ‘and as soon as I see the birth announcement, I shall send you whichever fits best.’

  
‘Thank you, Ms Gilly.’ Elizabeth wiped a tear from her eye, embarrassed by the amount of emotion she was filled with in this moment.

 

* * *

 

Elizabeth was not very surprised at the rate she was growing. It seemed every time she gave birth each child was bigger than the last. Tobias had hardly looked a newborn at all. At only six months she felt she looked as if she would fall into labour any day, but Elizabeth rationalised that she was just a little self-conscious. Or, perhaps, now her corset had not confining them this month, her child was catching up on disallowed growth. The new maternity corset supported rather than restricted, and while not comfortable exactly, was better than her old corsetry.

  
It was just as well she did not care in least whether it might be proper or not to attend a ball whilst six months with child. Examining the dress acquired for Bennett’s first engagement, that had arrived just today from Ms Gilly, Elizabeth tried not to squeal excitedly, muffling her joy with a hand. Running her fingers over the timeless dark red silk, she could see the dark, serious eyes of the painted beauty that had affected her so as a child clearly in her mind’s eye. Yes, this would do perfectly

 

 


	3. Tribulations

Elizabeth was quite taken aback by Bennett in his smart new evening wear.

 

‘Oh, my dear.' Elizabeth breathed out slowly. It was bittersweet, to see her son looking so handsome, understanding that he was becoming a man now and would not need her quite as much as he had in his youth. 'Benny, you look positively dashing.' She added an edge of humour, almost teasing her son, though she was not at all joking about her assessment of his appearance. He looked exactly as she imagined Mr Darcy would have looked in his youth.

 

Bennett tugged nervously at his deep blue lapels where they were sat over his velvet waistcoat, a silk cravat pinned at his collar.

 

'Do you really think so, Mama?' Bennett swallowed roughly, running a hand through his recently styled hair.

 

Elizabeth stepped forward to correct the locks he had mussed so they were swept back again, instead of hanging over his forehead. One such lock escaped her attentions, but Elizabeth didn’t reach up to move it this time. 'I really do. What a gentleman you look.'

 

'Bennett?' Mr Darcy seemed quite taken aback by his son as he descended the stairs. 'Oh, it fits you quite wonderfully. I have a mind to send a handwritten thank you to Mister Polette.' He referred to the french tailor he had favoured for more than a decade now.

 

Mr Darcy himself was dressed in a similar outfit, but black, instead of blue, and with a little gold detailing around the cuffs and lapels, to match his cufflinks. 'I have something for you.' He declared, striding over to Bennett, and fishing out a small black velvet box from his jacket pocket.

 

Bennett’s face lit up.

 

Mr Darcy opened the box to reveal a pair of cufflinks, both in the shape of the Fitzwilliam family crest, akin to his own but in silver to better match Bennett’s attire. 'To honour your great uncle on his birthday.'

 

'They’re wonderful, Papa. Thank you.' Bennett said eagerly.

 

'Let’s see how they look then.' Elizabeth insisted. She watched as Bennett removed his current cufflinks.

 

'Dunn,' Mr Darcy began, addressing the Butler where he attended the front door, 'could you have Baker bring the carriage around now please.'

 

'Already done, Sir.'

 

‘Excellent.’ Darcy smiled, and then turned to his wife and son as Elizabeth placed Bennett’s old cufflinks in the box. ‘Shall we?’

 

…

The Fitzwilliam estate in Grosvenor Square was quite a thing to behold. No less than five stories, with a number of large parlours; it’s bottom floor was built for entertaining. The doors could be opened wide to allow the movement of a swell of guests. A smaller version of Pemperly’s layout. Elizabeth had seen it packed many times before, but the furniture had been reupholstered and the crown molding re-envisioned for this occasion to regard the new styles, and Elizabeth had to admit it looked quite splendid. There would be a dinner, and so the guest were, for now, contained to only the parlours to drink and dance.

 

Elizabeth noted a few stares and second gazes as she entered and moved throughout the throng, as her condition was fairly easy to ascertain by now, but by this point it did not faze her. She was sure they were just looks of curiosity, as she did not register any looks of disgust akin to those seen when he had been carrying James. It was not such a taboo as it had once been.

 

Elizabeth and Bennett followed Darcy as he attended the host, his uncle Lord Tilmouth.

 

“Uncle.” Darcy strode up the to man, smiling.

 

“Ah, my boy.” Tilmouth clapped him on the back, a glass of port in the other hand. “My dear family, it is good to see you all.”

 

“Happy birthday, Uncle.” Bennett offered.

 

“And good wishes for your health.” Elizabeth smiled at the elderly man as he took her hand and chastely kissed her knuckles.

 

“And for yours also my dear.” Tilmouth said with sincerity. Two equally elderly gentlemen had been watching this exchange patiently. The Lord suddenly remembered to introduce them, though this was not exactly necessary as the Darcys had met the pair at a previous event. “Bridges, Locke, you remember my nephew, Mr Darcy, and his wife, Mrs Darcy.”

 

Bridges and Locke responded to the affirmative and greeted the pair warmly.

 

Just as Bennett was beginning to feel awkward, Lord Tilmouth gestured his way. “This is their eldest, Master Bennett Darcy, heir of Pemberley and Derbyshire. Tonight is his entrance into society.’

 

Bridges and Locke shook Bennett’s hand in turn.

 

“A pleasure, Master Darcy.” Bridges said.

 

“Indeed, a pleasure.” Locke concurred.

 

‘Bennett, these are my school friends, Lord Guildford,” Tilmouth gestured to Bridges, and then to Locke “and the Earl of Sandhurst.”

 

“It’s an honour.” Bennett said, as he finished shaking Locke’s hand.

 

“Where do you attend school, Master Darcy?” Locke asked, obviously vying for a certain answer.

 

“Harrow.” Bennett knew his uncle had attended Harrow, and so this must be the school the Earl had also attended.

 

“Good lad, best school in the country, don’t listen to what those spiteful boys from Eton have to say.” Locke said approvingly.

 

‘I quite agreed.’ Darcy spoke up. ‘Harrow has a much deeper focus on practical learning. What good is it if my son can speak six languages, but does not know how to handle the finances of a large estate?’

 

Elizabeth found her mind wandering, as this conversation did not engage her, and looked about to see if she could spot Georgiana among the throng of people around her. Instead her eyes fell on another familiar face, one she had not expected to see.

 

“Uncle,” Elizabeth turned her attention back to the company at hand, which had just taken a pause in their conversation. “I did not realise you had invited my own family to this event, it is most kind of you.”

 

“My grandson, Master Harry, he suggested that since this is Bennett’s first ball it would be fitting to have his mother’s family attend. I thought it was a wonderful idea! They are, by extension, relations of mine after all, and I should like to meet the parents of such a wonderful young lady as yourself. Your father attended Harrow not two decades after myself, after all.’

 

‘My grandparents are here? How wonderful.” Bennett exclaimed.

 

‘I doubt that Bennett, you know your Grandpapa hates town.’ Elizabeth put a hand on her son’s arm, as if to further warn him not to let his hopes get too high. ‘Are you sure my parents responded in the positive of their attendance, Uncle?’

 

‘Oh my dear, I’m afraid I could not say, my secretary deals with such matters as that.’

 

“Would you excuse me? Elizabeth asked. ‘I have just seen one of my sisters and I should like to go greet her.’

 

‘Of course.’

 

Elizabeth gave Bennett’s arm a gentle squeeze of reassurance before exiting the group. Though she could only see the back of a head, and a slender neck, she recognised her sister immediately. She wore white lace in her hair, and a ribbon tied in a bow held some pretty ornament to her neck. Her dress was certainly not the most fashionable in the room, but this could be overlooked when at only 32 years Lydia had not surpassed the beauty of her youth, despite hardships that could have made her bitter and ugly.

 

‘Liddy?’ Elizabeth made herself known.

 

Lydia turned to face Elizabeth with a heightened eyebrow. I had been at least two years since they had last seen each other, as they were preoccupied with their respective families, did not live in close proximity, and nor did they move in the same social circles.

 

‘Oh, Elizabeth!’ The excitement was genuine, and Lydia’s embrace warm.

 

Elizabeth gladly enveloped her sister with similar fevour, ‘It’s such a joy to see you, it’s been far too long. How are you? How is Eliza? I saw Felicity dancing not five minutes ago, she looked to be quite in her element.’

 

‘I’m very well. Eliza is growing up very fine, though I am biased I’m sure. She is darker and more willowy of frame than her sister, but I believe just as beautiful, much like the aunt for whom she was named.’

 

‘Your... _delicate_ flattery is noted, Lydia.’ Elizabeth laughed. Her sister had developed such extreme manners as to turn the question of her own daughter’s well-being into a vehicle by which to compliment Elizabeth. This was far better an affliction than their own mother’s, who, in comparison, had been much lacking in her knowledge of the niceties of polite society.

 

‘How are your boys? I hear from Mama you are to have a sixth. Now I see this is true.’ Lydia gestured to Elizabeth’s slightly protruding midsection. ‘How very ambitious of you Lizzy.’

 

‘Believe me this was not of my design.’ Elizabeth said dowerly. She was glad of this child, she could not be more so, but she would have been very happy to have Tobie be her last babe, and would not have regretted this opportunity had it passed her by.

 

Lydia smiled suggestively as if Elizabeth had said something quite scandalous.

 

‘All of them are well, Oliver’s lungs are much improved.’ Elizabeth answered her sister’s question before moving on to what she truly wondered after. ‘When did you see Mama?’ Elizabeth assumed that perhaps Lydia and Eliza had visited Longbourn in their descent from the north.

 

‘Oh, not five minutes ago.’ Lydia said.

 

‘Pardon?’ Elizabeth was confused. She had been so sure. Her father never visited town. He hadn’t come up for Felicity’s first event.

 

‘There’s no need to look quite so horrified, Lizzy, after all they were invited. I did not expect them to attend either but Mama managed to convince Papa right at the last minute. Eliza and I came into town with them. They’re only up for a few days, though I’m sure Mama would wish it to be more.’

 

‘Where on earth are they staying?’ If they were staying with Jane, Elizabeth was sure Jane would have informed her.

 

‘Oh… I know they stopped by at Jane’s for tea and to dress but I thought...’ Now it was Lydia’s turn to look confused. ‘I thought they were staying with you?’

 

Elizabeth took a moment to gather her thoughts, ‘Would you excuse me, Lydia? I’m afraid I must speak with my husband.’

 

After her sister let her go, Elizabeth moved quickly through the throng of people to find Darcy exactly where she had left him. ‘Darling,’ Elizabeth spoke the endearment with a sharp edge that was unmistakable. ‘Might I speak with you alone a moment.’

 

‘Of course.’ Darcy quickly excused himself from the group of gentlemen and attended his wife. ‘Elizabeth, what’s the matter? Is it the child?’

 

He was so attentive and worried Elizabeth almost forgot to be annoyed with him. Almost. ‘Darcy, is it possible that you have invited my parents to stay with us for the week without informing me of it?’

 

There was a moment of silence between them, and then an expression of regret dawned on Darcy’s face. ‘Yes… yes, I’m afraid that might be possible.’

 

‘Fitz…’ Elizabeth sighed.

 

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my darling, but I thought it would be what you wanted when I replied to your mother’s letter, and recently we have had so much excitement I quite forgot I had ever offered. I was sure your father would not approve the trip; he didn’t attend Felicity’s entrance.’ Darcy offered. ‘But, Elizabeth, please consider that this might be a good thing. Your father is an elderly man now, it would be nice for him to spend some time with his grandchildren. I’m sure your parents are here for them, not us, and your mother’s matchmaking can do no harm when there is no one in our household that is of marriageable age. Do not assume this will be a bad experience... I would do anything for the chance to have my own parents meet our children.’ He said the last sentence with such softness that all of Elizabeth’s annoyance disapperated.

 

In that moment, two footmen opened the doors to the dining hall, and the announcement of dinner was made.

 

‘My Dear,’ Darcy offered his elbow for Elizabeth to clasp.

 

They were sat at main table, as members of Tilmouth’s close family, along with the most important guests, such as the Earl. Elizabeth noted her mother and father were sat with Lydia, Felicity, Jane, and Bingley. At least her parents were not being left alone to exhibit their eccentricities. Jane could be quite the balm to cover their mother’s excitable nature.

 

There were a couple of speeches to be made before dinner could commence. Darcy was the last to be called forth to give such a one. He stood to list the more generally acceptable and pleasurable qualities of his uncle and raise a glass to his health.

 

‘Thank you, my boy. A hundred wishes for the good health of your family as well. Now for a motion of perhaps as great an importance as my birthday.’ The Lord chuckled, then repeated, ‘perhaps...’ He paused, silently calling upon his audience to laugh with him. ‘If I might make a wish also, Darcy, for the future of your eldest son, Bennett, upon the night of his entrance into society. A young man of good breeding, intellect, and, as many have informed me tonight, beauty! Such a man is a credit to my family indeed, and shall continue to be for the rest of his long and happy life. My friends,’ The Lord addressed his audience once more and held his glass a little higher, ‘you have raised your glasses thrice for me this night, now I ask you to raise them once for my nephew, Master Darcy.’

 

Elizabeth couldn’t be more proud as Bennett, knowing exactly what was expected of him, stood to nod his head in a quick bow to acknowledge his well-wishers. She couldn’t help but tear away her gaze to see the reactions of her family, where upon she caught her father’s eye as it glistened with a single tear. She smiled at him reassuringly, her heart swelling to see him affected by Bennett so. A man without a son to carry on his name, but who had a grandson named for him twofold; it was clear Obadiah Bennett was close to trembling with pride.

 

‘Mama, I cannot dance.’ Bennett told his mother with wide eyes after dinner as they moved to exit the dining hall.

 

‘What on earth do you mean, Bennett? You’re a very fine dancer.’ Elizabeth was struck by miscomprehension. Of course, Bennett could be a little wooden in his movements, prone to awkwardness, but she’d practiced with him before and he was by no means incapable.

 

‘No, you see,’ Bennett found it difficult to meet his mother’s gaze, ‘I’m quite fond of it, but I have never danced with a girl that I was not related to. How should I ask them?’

 

‘Well…’ Elizabeth considered this. She, as a gentlewoman, had never considered the courage it might take to approach a woman and ask for a dance, knowing you might be rejected, knowing that perhaps her dance card might be full. ‘Well, you can’t avoid dancing it would be considered most unsociable of you, and on your entrance as well. We can not have a repeat of your father’s affliction, where he was considered by so many an unpleasant sort. We shall ease you into it. Why don’t you go ask Felicity for a dance first?’

 

Bennett breathed a little easier. ‘Yes. Thank you, Mama.’

 

‘But after that you should find another partner. Look to find a girl unengaged by another task, they will be more willing to join you.’

 

As if on cue Felicity approached them.

 

‘Evening!’ The girl seemed in unconscionably high spirits. ‘It was splendid to see you at dinner, Bennett. Standing there in your new eveningwear, you looked almost regal.’ She then looked to Elizabeth. ‘And I want to thank you Aunt, this dress, it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.’

 

‘Felicity, you look perfectly angelic in that blue.’

 

‘Indeed, Felicity, it looks very fine.’ Bennett smiled warmly. ‘I wondered if I might ask for the next dance, Cousin?’

 

‘Bennett finds himself in desperate need of a partner straight away, but has yet to work up the courage to ask a young lady he has not yet been acquainted with.’ Elizabeth informed Felicity, teasing her son quite mercilessly.

 

‘Oh?’ Felicity took in Bennett’s now uneasy stature. ‘Well, we shall have to fix that. After our dance I’ll ask Mr Harry to introduce you to a number of his acquaintances. Did you know he’s acquainted with the young Viscount Derwent, Lord Fitzalan? Apparently they’re quite close as they studied together at Harrow. So close in fact, Harry has taken to calling Lord Fitzalan ‘Howie’ as he is a Howard, and in turn he calls Harry ‘Fitz’. Do you have a school nickname, cousin?’

 

‘Harry?’ Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

 

‘Master Fitzwilliam, that is.’ Felicity hid her emotions carefully, skipping over the apparentness of her blossoming friendship with the young man in question.

 

Bennett answered Felicity’s question with good cheer, ‘Just plain Darcy for now, I’m afraid.’

 

‘A confidant of future Dukes, I would have expected nothing less from young Harry.’ Elizabeth sought both to make Felicity more comfortable and also tease by using the same title, or lack of such, that Felicity had used only a moment before.

 

‘It would be marvelous to meet Lord Fitzalan. I take it he isn’t here tonight?’ Bennett inquired.

 

‘No, goodness,’ Felicity’s hand went to her chest in feigned shock, ‘that would be quite a thing, for Earl Tilmouth to invite a future Duke and not have them sit at his table. However, next week there is to be a ball held in honour of Lord Fitzalan’s nineteenth birthday. I’m sure the cousin of his closest friend would be very welcome, and Ha-’ Felicity corrected herself so masterfully it could almost be overlooked, ‘Master Fitzwilliam is sure to want you there. He’s very fond of you, Bennett. You could be my escort!’

 

‘Felicity, you shall still need the escort of your aunt. Bennett is far too young to be considered a suitable replacement.’ Elizabeth chided her niece.

 

Felicity sighed, but did not rebuke Elizabeth. ‘Still, I’m sure it shall be marvelous.’

 

‘What would we do without you Felicity?’ Bennett was quite serious, though he mocked her a little.

 

‘Flounder quite awfully, I’m sure!’ She took his arm at the elbow, ‘Now we’ve missed the reel, but I find all the changing of partners becomes quite disconcerting myself. I much prefer the Waltz, it’s far more engaging, and I need someone with as keen feet as yourself, Benny, that I can trust not to dance on my toes.’

 

‘The waltz?’ Mr Darcy had apparently overheard the conversation. ‘How scandalous! I remember how only a few years ago it was thought so, yet here we all stand.’

 

‘Yes, but you see if I dance it with my cousin I can be sure of no speculation. I’ve thought this through carefully, Uncle.’ Felicity smirked deliberately.

 

Elizabeth was sure the girl would, despite her claiming otherwise, much prefer to be dancing this with someone other than Bennet, but she was right. As Felicity was unmarried it would be thought unseemly of her to dance with a young man of no close relation.

 

Felicity then whisked Bennett away to join the dancefloor before the music began.

 

‘She is… uncommonly self-aware for her age.’ Darcy mused.

 

‘Lydia has certainly instilled that trait, yes.’ As Elizabeth finished talking her husband’s hand appeared outstretched before her.

 

Elizabeth looked up at him with a furrowed brow. ‘I’m six months with child, Fitz. I can’t move as I used to.’

 

‘I know you seek only to spare me the experience, but you love to dance, my dear. I saw you not yesterday practicing with our son and you were as wonderful as ever.’ He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘One dance.’

 

He took the silence paired with a small smile as her conceding to his wish.

 

…

 

 _‘_ _Lavender’s green dilly, dilly_

_Lavender’s blue_

_You must love me, dilly, dilly_

_‘cause I love you.’_

 

It was in the early hours Elizabeth crooned softly and sweetly to her youngest boy. Tobias slumbered in her arms, just about little enough to still be held like a babe is. Elizabeth wore only her nightdress and a shawl, with her hair plaited to one side so the fine dark locks of the little boy tickled her collarbone. Resting on the cushions of the daybed in hers and Darcy’s sitting room, she curled her body around her son.

 

Tobias was not prone to nightmares, but when he did have them the nurse was instructed to wake Elizabeth immediately. She would never want her children scared, and herself not there to comfort them. Even if he only woke in the night, and could not sleep, she would be there, as she was tonight. He had been waking a lot in the night recently, but that was not common in children around his age.

 

His feet stockingless, Elizabeth reached out to clasp them in her warm hands, playing with his small toes, then sacrificing her shawl’s warm presence on her shoulder to cover them. Continuing to sing, in case he wasn’t quite asleep, she reached up to try to smooth the cowlick ever-present atop his head. Tobias had the dark, straight hair of his father, and she knew as with Bennett when he grew older, and his hair thickened, this small quirk would vanish. Elizabeth was sure she would mourn it terribly when it did.

 

She was still singing quietly when a small shadow fell across the light from the hallway, though she took no notice.

 

_‘Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,_

_Lavender's green_

_When you are King, dilly dilly,_

_I shall be Queen’_

 

Elizabeth finished her song, now sure from Tobias’ breathing that he was truly asleep.

 

‘God bless you, Tobie… my darling boy.’

 

The hinges of the door squeaked a little as they were pressured. This time Elizabeth did take notice. The cause, knowing they were discovered, showed themselves.

 

‘I sung you that when you were but a babe.’ Elizabeth had almost never heard her mother whisper, and that was not the only thing that struck her.

 

It had been so long since Elizabeth had seen her mother like this; without fine fabrics, without rouge on her lips and cheeks. They reunited at parties and dinners, and the few times her mother had come to stay at Pemberley, when she had retired for the night she was not seen until breakfast. She looked like an old woman now, dressed only in her night clothes and slippers.

 

‘I know.’ Elizabeth softened toward her mother. ‘I remember.’

 

‘Precious.’ Mrs Bennett came to sit tentatively with her daughter and sleeping grandson. ‘So very precious.’

 

Elizabeth stroked his round, pink cheek, lightly tracing his parted lips. She should call for the nurse to take him back to bed, but she it was inclined to hold her son a little longer instead.

 

‘Mama…’ Elizabeth began, hoping the question she was about to ask was not too personal, ‘If… if I’d had a brother, what would his name have been?’ Elizabeth had thought perhaps, she could use it for her next babe, if they were another son, in honour of her mother.

 

Mrs Bennett didn’t even seem to have to think about it, ‘Percival Augustus, after your grandfathers.’

 

Elizabeth sighed, ‘Percy.’ She paused. ‘I’m rather running out of names for boys. You must have felt the same about girl’s names.’ Percival Francis Augustus Darcy, with his second name after Elizabeth’s mother, that could work.

 

‘He existed, you know.’ Mrs Bennett said, as if the truth could not be held in any longer. To say her son’s name, but not acknowledge he had existed, would surely be torture.

 

The air grew thick and heavy between Elizabeth and her mother, as the younger woman processed this information.

 

Elizabeth had miscarried twice herself, but both very early on, before she even knew she was carrying. To know the sex of the child, her mother must have lost him very late.

 

‘He could not breath when he was born, so small the midwife could hold him in just one hand. We knew he couldn’t live more than a minute or two.’

 

Elizabeth took the hand the rested on her mother’s lap.

 

‘When was this?’

 

‘It was the 3rd of September. 1795. I could not forget it. Never in all my years.’

 

Elizabeth drew in a harsh breath. That date was not a year before her own birth. She was sure her mother must still have been distraught when she found out she was with child again. No wonder there had always been a strain on her and Elizabeth’s relationship. Mrs Bennett wouldn’t have been able to look upon her new daughter’s face without seeing the ghost of her son. It made Elizabeth glad she had not born any children for years after the loss of her daughter. Upon his arrival Edmund had been nothing but God’s miracle in her eyes.

 

‘Why didn’t you tell me this… when I lost Grace?’ Elizabeth was almost angered. Her mother could have comforted her, commiserated with her, but she had said nothing at all.

 

‘I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It is far too difficult to find the words, even now.’

 

This had to be, as far as Elizabeth was concerned, the first honest conversation she had ever had with her mother. The quietest, and most introspective, she had ever seen the woman be.

 

…

 

As Elizabeth progressed further to her due date, reaching the end of her seventh month, she found herself deprived of her children, even little Tobias, as he bonded further with a grandmother that provided constant entertainment for him with her chatter. Elizabeth’s father had taken to going for a walk in Grosvenor park in the afternoon, as it was the closest he could get to the countryside while he was here, and often took James and Edmund with him. Oliver had gone to stay with Georgiana for a few weeks, and Bennett seemed to spend quite a lot of time at Jane’s now, finding in Felicity a lively conversation partner, when he wasn’t visiting his new acquaintances.

 

His time at Lord Fitzalan’s ball had been most productive, as it turned out. It had been a relatively small affair, and Felicity had informed her that Bennett had been quite the talking point, especially with the attending young ladies, being all brand new and shiny as he was. He’d received many invitations to various events since then.

 

‘The young Lady Cowper kept looking at him all evening, I swear it. You should have seen her glow when he asked her to dance.’ Felicity laughed to herself.

 

Elizabeth had asked Jane and Felicity to tea, and she could not be more pleased to see them, stuck indoors as she was, and with the house far too quiet. Lydia was not able to attend as she had returned to Durham with Eliza a couple of weeks previous. Their own mother had also declined her invitation been called upon to attend a gallery opening of Granadian works on Canary Row by a lady she’d met and befriended at church.

 

‘Lord Melbourne’s niece? Oh, she’s sure to be a beautiful creature! I met the Lord’s sister, Lady Emily, when we were invited to dine with Lord Melbourne, upon Charles’ entrance into Parliament. Her face was not uncommonly pretty per se, but her features very fine and proud, and she moved so gracefully.’

 

‘It is fair to say Lavinia is much like her mother, for her father was in attendance and I would say the two looked nothing alike.’ Felicity added innocently.

 

Elizabeth attempted to share a knowing look with Jane, who’s eyes flickered to meet hers but then fell as a little colour rose in her cheeks.

 

Felicity caught Jane as she redirected her gaze, and noted Elizabeth’s half smirk as she pretended to be engaged in drinking her tea. ‘Have I said something terribly ignorant?’

 

‘Not ignorant, darling, no.’ Jane exclaimed, suddenly very worried she had caused Felicity to feel self-conscious.

 

‘It is only that everyone knows, though it should never be discussed openly, that Lady Emily’s five youngest children may be those also of Lord Palmerston, not her husband.’ Elizabeth explained. ‘If not all of them, then certainly her eldest daughter; the younger Lady Emily Cowper has the distinct pale skin, dark hair, and clear blue eyes of an irishman’s daughter.’ She mused.

 

‘And this is accepted?’ Felicity was genuinely curious, not judgmental.

 

‘There is no proof of course, and it goes on a lot more than you might have been led to believe in your life thus far.’ Jane offered.

 

Elizabeth wasn’t even sure Felicity’s younger sister, Eliza, was Wickham’s child, though she would never say that in front of Felicity. The girl resembled him in no shape or form, and with his colouring so apparent in Felicity? Both Lydia and Wickham having blue eyes, blond hair, and pale skin. Could they truly have produced a child with as dark a complexion as Eliza? Much more French or Italian in her beauty; tall, with green eyes and dark hair. Elizabeth would certainly not condemn her sister if she had taken a lover, when she’d been robbed of her youth so heartlessly. If Elizabeth had been forced to marry Mr Collins, she was not sure she would have had the strength to stay faithful to a man she didn’t love, let alone like.

 

‘Many a man raises a child that isn’t his, Felicity. Some even do it knowingly.’ Elizabeth said simply.

 

‘It can be very difficult to stay faithful to a man you do not love.’ Jane added sadly.

 

Elizabeth had no doubt Jane had considered the very thing she had; that Lydia was not a faithful wife.

 

Jane sighed, holding her tea cup delicately, but not lifting it all the way to her lips. ‘Even more difficult, I’m sure, when you love another who is not your husband. I am very lucky to love my Mr Bingley as I do.’

 

‘And I Mr Darcy.’ Elizabeth nodded, smiling bittersweet.

 

There was a heavy pause before Felicity spoke again, ‘If I cannot marry for love, I shall never marry at all.’

 

Both Jane and Elizabeth already knew this as fact, and were not shocked, but rather taken aback by Felicity’s blunt deliverance of the statement.

 

‘Gosh,’ Jane said, ‘you rather remind me of your auntie Lizzie in her youth.’

 

‘There are much worse people to resemble.’ Felicity spoke with a certain reverence, her gaze falling before she could meet that of the aunt in question.

 

Elizabeth reached under the table, taking Felicity’s hand to squeeze it warmly, before returning the hand to her own lap. A show of solidarity perhaps, or thanks.

 

‘Mama! Mama!’ Two boys rushed into the her parlour at such speeds Elizabeth rather feared for the health of her visitors.

 

‘James! Darling, please calm yourself, this display is quite inappropriate in front of your aunt and cousin.’

 

The quickest and most spirited of her sons was living up to his reputation; his bright dark eyes burning with cheer, still dressed in his overcoat.

 

‘You’re still in your outerwear, go take it off at once.’

 

‘Yes, Mama. Sorry, I just have so much to tell you before Edmund arrives.’ James explained before rushing back out the door.

 

‘Don’t run, Jamie!’ Elizabeth called after him. Turning back to her thoroughly amused visitors, Elizabeth addressed them a pair of pursed lips that clearly hid a smile, ‘I apologise, he is often high-spirited, but not to this extent.’

 

‘Mama!’ This time it was Edmund who entered first, his deep auburn curls in a disarray, still in his overcoat, and his arms cradling a dark mass of fur. ‘Look what we found.’ The boy looked quite in love with the animal in his hands. James was peering over his older brother’s shoulder in utter wonder.

 

‘Is that a rat?’ Felicity’s hand flew to her mouth. She stood as if ready to run, eyes wide.

 

‘No.’ Edmund huffed. ‘It’s a puppy.’

 

It was then that Mr Bennett entered, swinging his cane, devoid of his outerwear and looking quite innocent.

 

‘Father.’ Elizabeth said coldly.

 

…

 

‘I honestly don’t see the issue, Elizabeth. So your father got the boys a dog, we were thinking about getting them one ourselves.’ Darcy didn’t look up from browsing his newspaper that next morning as Elizabeth paced at the end of the bed, rubbing her lower back. She was now into the part of her child-bearing that required her to rest, and at the moment she was thankful, for her back hurt more than it had when she was carrying any of her others.

 

‘It’s not the dog I take issue with, it’s that my father did not think to discuss it with us first.’ Elizabeth rolled her shoulders as she walked, groaning in relief as she felt a tiny bit of pressure release.

 

Darcy did put his paper down at this point, ‘Are you in pain, my dear?’

 

‘Only what is usual.’ Elizabeth huffed a short laugh; the idea that pain could be usual was absurd, but in this situation it was expected. ‘Or rather not pain, so much as discomfort.’

 

Darcy rose and came over to her taking her in his embrace, and bringing his lips to her ear to whisper, ‘Only two more months my dear, and then you shall hold our daughter in your arms.’

 

Elizabeth pulled away slightly but sharply, so she might look up at him. ‘You can’t know what she will be?’

 

‘Neither can you, and yet you use ‘she’ to refer to the child.’ Darcy answered with a heightened brow, amused by her slip of the tongue.

 

‘Do you judge me for hoping it to be?’ Elizabeth hadn’t known she had been so obvious about her desires.

 

‘How could I.’ Darcy took his wife’s hands in his and raised them so he could kiss her knuckles. ‘I know how… how much you want to raise a daughter.’ Darcy chose his words carefully. ‘I know how Grace’s loss broke you, as it broke me also, but it was not the end of our journey as parents. We had Bennett to raise, and since that dark time we have had four more boys that have been strong enough to survive this world. I have to believe there is the possibility we may have another daughter who can do the same. I would be so blessed to be given a daughter that I can see you in as much as I know you see me in Bennett.’

 

‘I do love you so, Darcy’ Elizabeth was just about strong enough not to start weeping, but the emotions brought on by her condition tested her resolve.

 

‘And I you.’ He assured her.

 

…

 

‘I’m sure it shall be another boy, you’re carrying rather low, Dear.’ Mrs Bennett offered her daughter over breakfast, having barely swallowed her eggs.

 

Elizabeth felt the comment rather unfeeling of her, given the talk they’d had the other night. However, Elizabeth supposed, she hadn’t actually mentioned to her mother what she hoped for.

 

‘Twiddle-twaddle and old wives tales, Lizzie, no basis in fact. Don’t listen to your Mama.’ Mr Bennett insisted.

 

‘Oh, because you’re so knowledgeable in the area of childbirthing, are you Mr Bennett?’ If it had been possible, Elizabeth was sure her mother would have stood there with her hands on her hips. Rather she was engaged with buttering her toast.

 

‘I hear the boys have named that little scrap you brought home ‘Fraser’, isn’t that sweet?’ Elizabeth sought to change the subject as quickly as possible.

 

‘Dirty bloody scottish name, why?’ Mr Bennett said in light-hearted annoyance.

 

‘It means ‘of the forest’ Grandpapa.’ Bennett was a little wide-eyed, never having seen his grandfather swear much before. ‘Edmund liked it.’

 

‘Surely we do not still begrudge the scottish old follies such as the rising of ‘45?’ Darcy took a moment to look up from opening his letters. ‘It’s been so many decades, the clans are dispersed now the time for anger is passed’

 

‘While the grandson of Charles the pretender lives, Britain is not safe from conquest.’ Mr Bennett held up a finger and answered with a calm strength.

 

As her husband and father debated the catholic presence, Elizabeth could not be more distracted, as she did not much care for talk of religion, or politics of this type, especially when it was the remnant of what had passed so many years before her time. Instead she noticed her father’s finger as he held it up. It shook, and not as a normal hand shakes, but the more intense quiver of the aged. Averting her eyes she forced herself not to think on her father’s mortality. He never spoke of his age, but he had not been young when he married, and with five grown daughters and upwards of ten grandchildren, Elizabeth knew he must be nearing his 80th year at least. As long and he lived to see her youngest, her last child, she could comfort herself in the wake of his loss, she told herself.

 

Darcy’s sudden change of demeanor, sitting up painfully straight in his chair, ridged, brought her back to the present reality. He held an opened letter aloft in his right hand.

 

‘Darling?’ She questioned, concerned.

 

‘I’m sorry, my dear, it's just... my aunt, the Countess Matlock, writes to say that my cousin, the Earl, was thrown from his horse riding this past week. He’s stable and abed for now it seems, but… his legs, they worry he may never walk again.’ Darcy looked horrified at the news. He was not close with his eldest cousin, as he was with the Earl’s younger brother Edmund, the Viscount D'Arcy, despite being of a more similar age. However, Darcy and the Earl had been friends as boys, and it was still a shock.

 

Elizabeth’s hand flew to cover her mouth. She hadn’t met the Earl but maybe once or twice a year at family functions, but he’d seemed a very pleasant kind of man, if a tiny bit too rambunctious for Elizabeth’s taste. She knew he had a wife, Florence, and three girls, the youngest not much more than a babe. It was too terrible to comprehend, that he might be fatally ill; a man in his prime, with a young family. 

 

…

 

‘Cousin, you must see the position we are put it. If Fredrick cannot father a son now, and myself and Alice are never to have one either, then naturally…’

 

‘You’re too hasty! He may yet recover, and you may yet have children.’ Darcy was leant forward in his chair, hands on his desk, boisterous in his speech.

 

Elizabeth was present in the study, but really only as a spectator. She had taken up residence in a chair removed from the desk that Darcy stood behind, and that Edmund Darcy stood in front of.

 

‘Gentlemen, please, the children might hear.’ Elizabeth implored them both.

 

‘Let them hear.’ Edmund said with gritted teeth. ‘They should know this truth. Darcy, I have been married several years now without issue, and my brother’s health now declines. Prepare yourself, and Bennett, to do your duty. If the worst does come, you will be the only heirs of the Earl of Matlock.’

 

‘And Fredrick’s daughters…’ Elizabeth began, not finishing the question before Edmund answered it.

 

Edmund softened at the mention of her selfless inquiry into the welfare of his nieces. ‘All have significant dowries, my dear cousin, do not worry yourself on their account... but they cannot inherit the title, as you know.’

 

Elizabeth nodded, though bitter at the unfairness of it all.  

 

The Earl’s daughters were so young, the eldest only beginning to blossom into a young woman at thirteen years, and the youngest only two. If their father passed on now, his smallest might have no memories of him at all.

 

‘How bad is he?’ Darcy asked after a moment, calmly asking for the unsweetened truth.

 

‘The fever is beaten it seems.’ Edmund avoided Darcy’s gaze. ‘Mother has called upon the best physicians; they’re hopeful they may yet save his life, if not the use of his legs.’

  
  
  
  
  



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